Well that was interesting. Starting on Friday was “The Illustrated Penguin”. A four and a half foot tall circus performer with no arms. The body art crowd did not really overall support like in the good ‘ol days, but he had a good crowd and did a good show. I DJ’d after and had a good time, oh, except for the rumor someone broke their leg falling off the couch. It turns out it was an old skate board injury and not a break, but it was still scary. When everyone was gone I got really introspective about life.

The next day I enjoyed DJ Curatrix’s company. We drank bloody marys and went to the new store in Sellwood that is Steampunk themed, “Wells and Verne”. The space is elegant and on the main shopping street, and the inventory unique. I bought Monkey a Frankenstein silhouette pendant and tried to hit other antique stores but most had closed by 6pm. I wish them luck and will help in any way possible. Back to Lovecraft for a night of doom metal.

Much to my chagrin, these guys did not know how to tip even though they received complimentary drinks. I gave them a brief, assertive lecture on tipping that they compensated by tipping 1/4 of what they could have/should have. DJ Maxamillion showed up and we had fun, we always do. Tomorrow, I judge a nerd costume contest.

Billie Galaxy works hard at doing a good convention, and I truly enjoy the contest. I brought Zoey the Posey and Monkey as my “Filthy Assistants” (read Transmetropolitan to understand the reference) and fed the co judges, Adam Arnold and Benja Barker, drinks on me. Maybe it was the Hunter S. Thompson I’ve been reading, or the episode of “The Young Ones- Celebrity Challenge”, that influenced me, but instead of selling my small businesses, I chose to be more of a character then a businessman and introduced myself as “Jon Horrid- Fabulous Trainwreck”. The costumes were great, including a 6 year old Darth Vader and an extremely tall Galactus. A burp escaped me and reached the microphone, which cracked me up. Karaoke Djs hate me, I take the microphone into the bathroom in the spirit of Leslie Neilson in “Naked Gun”. Microphones are a guilty pleasure of mine, being a tool that can be utilized to be extra annoying. As goofy as I was, I judged fairly and honestly. My Filthy Assistants were asked to leave the stage (they can be distracting) and the contest was over.

We got more drinks and then the girls got a bit lesbian, attracting attention since they are both hot. At one point a cute little 19 year old wandered over but we have age limits for what we do (she was barely too young).

Back to the bar where I was surprised by a visit from Mortal Clay with Voltaire in tow. I always envisioned Voltaire playing my bar, even though years ago we had some drama. I’d like to say I was professional, but instead of entertaining a business meeting, Monkey kept interrupting so I head butted her. And then attacked my Filthy Assistants with a couch, trapping both underneath it. It was fun and Mortal Clay and Voltaire said goodbye while a full on couch fight progressed.

After all of that exertion I needed a power nap, woke up to make sure the bartender on duty, Sandy, would not get freaked out by our ghost during closing. After she left I watched Iron Maiden’s concert footage from “Live After Death” and Alice Cooper’s concert footage until dawn. My weekend was over

Really? You get a free drink and not tip the bartender? Fuck you, cheap fuckers. I provide free drinks to entertainers but my bartenders depend on your tips for their livelihood. Your shitty band needs to understand that we are all in this together. Most of you have no fucking friends, so compensate that please by tipping my bartenders.

I brought a friend to an open bar at The Limelight in NYC. Open bar means the owners make no money, and neither does the bartender if you don’t tip. I ordered 2 drinks and tipped $5. My friend, much to my disgust, ordered 2 drinks and did not tip. The bartender took the drinks back and ID’d him. The ID was legit, but the bartender contested it. I intervened and tipped him $5 and he released the drinks to us. My friend sulked, complaining it was “supposed to be free”. It was, tipping is not mandatory or obligatory, it’s fucking civilized.

I’m embarrassed by bad tippers that are my friends. I knew a guy who would carry a calculator with him (the days before cel phones) and literally tip rounded down to the nearest penny.

I had a buddy, Kate Hate, who was a bar waitress in NYC, and when people would tip her in change, she would literally throw it in there face saying,”you need this more then me, obviously”. Every one should be a server to appreciate the life of a server.

At this point, I will not rebook a band who does not tip my bartenders. Fuck you.

Above; Monkey Punch.

Another day(s) in the life of confusion

So it was my besty, Monkey’s, birthday and we raged. Starting w/ Thai food, we ended up at Lovecraft eating (and throwing) cake. My buddy from old school NYC days, Rustyn, DJ’ed and we drank. My opera singer buddy, Hilary, brought a circus performer by to book him here Friday. He’s roughly 4 feet tall with flippers and no arms, he goes by the name “Illustrated Penguin” and is a nice guy. His girlfriend had squeaky toys in her bra and would squeeze them so they squeaked. We all attacked Rustyn and Penguin mounted his face. We also spanked the shit out of Monkey. It was a good night.

We woke up and continued drinking. After buying useless shit at the dollar store, we saw “Dark Shadows” and I applaud Tim Burton for the best movie he’s made in years. We went to Union Jack’s and got a private but spent the time head butting each other. OK, that’s an exaggeration; I head butted Monkey repeatedly and alarmed the stripper. Returning to Lovecraft, I hung out w/ Ogo the pagan promoter and passed out at Monkey’s for a few hours.

Damn my insomnia and fucked up knee. I was hit by a bumper car in 1989 and it’s getting worse. I awakened in pain at 6am and came to the bar to take care of business for the fire marshall. After they evicted my sex mattress, I feel like I am on thin ice w/ them. As I was dozing in the employee lounge, our infamous ghost turned on the printer. Troublemaker; you don’t scare me. (scares everyone else though!)

The fire marshall has an excellent radio voice, but all of these guys see fire everywhere. I showed him around, and he, like every other fire guy, brought up the infamous Great White fire massacre when 100 people died due to negligence. Being a music nerd, I had to correct him it was Great White and not Whitesnake that caused the fire. We passed, and I was happy. I showered for the first time in days and went to the doctor for my knee.

It’s kind of a love/hate thing w/ my doctor. I have insomnia and feel like a whiner talking to her to fix it. What I gleaned (and am excited for) is that my blood pressure is in heart attack range; bring it on bitches! I think a heart attack would be interesting, how much pain can I take? I accept the challenge and the end results. I want a trampoline to aggravate it when it happens. I should will the bar to Brook if it happens.

I ate sushi and made the chef laugh w/ my sushi konji tattoo. I came back and found the health inspector here. He’s a nice guy and we chatted about our travels. He was scheduled to come a week from now. He counted our fruit flies and we passed. Hallelujah. I think I will go to a strip club where some chick owes me $50. After that, who knows?

“Everybody’s so full of shit” – Perry Farrell

“Friends are for forgiving” – John Lydon

    Well both quotes are accurate, only difference is, John Lydon, whom I have immense respect for, never had some of my friends apparently. Liars, thieves, one faked her own kidnapping, and numerous ones are enchanted by some delusion of grandeur from being in a band or a dj and forgot how to be good humans. I love the line in Aliens delivered of course by the incredibly talented and hot Sigourney Weaver,” I don’t know which species is worse, you don’t see them (the aliens) fucking each other over (for a percentage)”.

     Friendship used to be based on loyalty, honesty, and respect. I’ve seen too many good people in the last few years lie to themselves to be something “bigger” in their mind. Gateway drugs such as Djing or playing in stupid, no talent bands often have led to identity crises. It’s dumber then thinking you’re an elf because you play Dungeons And Dragons. Basically, these beings leave their cubicles or their convenience store jobs, punch out on the time clock, and they think they miraculously transform into something fabulous at night. Thus armed, they hurt those who love them because the “rock stars” out grow their earthly needs.

     Is the desire to think you are more then you are influenced and/or driven by reality tv shows? Facebook? World of Warcraft? I think people are bigger losers when they have to pretend to be more than they really are; it’s just pathetic. It’s awesome to be youthful in your attitudes, just not childish and selfish.

      I consider myself lucky, my entire adult life I had the luxury of never sacrificing my lifestyle for my career, I was a body piercer for 20 years. And a lot of us thought we were cooler than we really were. Being surrounded by punks posing as doctors can make help you spot a poser a mile away. I have also DJ’ed for over 20 years, I’ve played to huge crowds and no crowds. I’ve also been on TV over 10 times and have been back stage and friends with professional musicians and I’m not a douche. I’m simply me and I’m not cool. Neither are you. Accept reality. You’re not a rockstar, a famous DJ, or an elf. You’re delusional.

So I’m sitting here on the infamous (and disgusting) yellow couch writing this. A band is about to play and I hope they are good. A large jar with a dead squirrel with a red ribbon around its neck is on the table. The squirrel’s name is Icarus. This month’s artist brought him in for a silent auction. I love animals but dead one’s in jars don’t upset me. I’m actually impressed the artist dumped him in the jar, she’s a tiny, quiet person. It reminded me of when I found a dead squirrel in a cemetery, tire tracked and mummified. I picked it up and put it in a tree, hopefully confusing people if they see it. The tire tracks were really pronounced.

The band sounds good enough, they are 3 songs in now. Even though the singer said he would sing like Sammy Hagar and then yelled,”Jump”! which David Lee Roth originally sang, I won’t hold it against him, not everyone knows metal trivia like they should or could. This band is alternative (?) I guess, good enough. Kind of Joy Division-esque like most bands these days.

I met 2 insurance agents this week and gleaned these morsels of info from them; The Spin Doctors were a huge band in the 90s (I never liked them, they had a hippie following), and apparently their singer guy is sad and lonely in NYC. They were a huge band and not any more. Yet another band success/decline story. Learn from it, kids. The rock dream is dead. And the other agent told me 87% of Americans live paycheck to paycheck with virtually no savings. No wonder so many people drink PBR. We have to sell the equivalent of 3,000 PBRs a month here to pay the rent. Keep drinking, Portland!

One of my Djs has cancer, we’ll do what we can for her.

I also kicked my buddy’s ass (Stallone) in multiple wrestling matches. He should have won, he’s fit. And yes, we are both in pain today. I apparently punched him in his injured ankle repeatedly. That’s what happens when I watch WWE too much.

I remember when the WWE restaurant opened in NYC. The line was around the block and the wait was 3 hours. I was drinking all day during a tv shoot  for some show with Martin Landeau, the whole time I thought he looked like Bela Lugosi even before Tim Burton cast him in Bela’s role for Ed Wood. The whole time I had to be annoying, repeatedly quoting,”I do not drink wine” while I drank multiple bottles of wine. So armed with that buzz I walked right into the WWE restaurant without waiting in line. What I walked into was classic; dudes jumping off the bar giving their friends atomic elbows, WWE personalities walking around smaller then life, expensive drinks and bad food. I’m glad I snuck in!

The band is over, after an excellently rendered Joy Division cover. It’s not the first Joy Division cover to be played in The Lovecraft. They sounded professional which I always appreciate.

So anyone who knows me, knows I love music. I grew up worshipping musical heroes and heroines from most genres except folk. That is why I resent so many of the poser bands out today, the no talent, cocky, rip off commercial and contrived avante gard brats of all ages who relentlessly churn out garbage, strut and constantly lie and talk themselves up. And then I read, “Please Kill Me” about the NYC punk movement and realized my idols were really no different. (It’s a great book).

Half of my most favorite punk bands were drug addicted 20 something assholes who fucked each other over constantly and ruined their lives. Like our loser hipsters today, they had their own uniforms and cliques and shitty snobbish attitudes, but these punk children had passion and somehow lucked out and made a difference. Realizing this was as bad as finding out as a child that Santa wasn’t real.

Nancy Spungen was 20 years old when she was murdered. Sid Viscous was 21 when he OD’d. They lived but barely lived.  Iggy Pop, Stiv Bators, Johnny Thunders, Blondie- all famous in their early 20s; are children by today’s standards and were given, power, influence, and sometimes wealth which most abused. Patti Smith, whom I had met and thought was nice, was portrayed starting off as a snobbish whiny emo artsy brat. Most of my idols were actually assholes. This is why I hate meeting bands, they’re usually undeserving of my personal respect and they have the power to pollute the music by being people I probably would not piss on if they were on fire.

So am I being too hard on my “rockstar” peers? The tight jeans snobs who talk about their bands that did and will do nothing? The 40+ crowd who considers playing a house party a tour? Am I condescending that they revel in playing empty rooms to their incestuous peers and think they are making a difference? Well, being a jaded prick that I am, no. I don’t think so.

I have been lucky with the acts that have played Lovecraft lately. Talented, professional, and respectful. I don’t know how Hilly Kristal, owner of CBGB’s (R.I.P.) dealt with the drugs and violence of those days, and as much as I would love the equivalent of The Dead Boys or Ramones to play my bar, it wouldn’t be worth the drama I read about.

Definitely read “Please Kill Me”. Inspiring, informative, entertaining, depressing.

I deleted my personal Facebook page. I recognize it’s the equivalent of social suicide but it does absolutely nothing for me. If anything, it makes my friends look dumb and I know they are not. Two of my real friends have also deleted their pages, one claimed it made her feel lonely. I can understand that. The thought that intelligent people intentionally expose their personal information on a public site is amazingly dumb. I guess Ray Bradbury’s warnings didn’t have a lasting affect (good try, Ray!) Facebook has also replaced the art of web sites which is a shame. I can’t imagine why my beautiful friends who are all individuals get addicted to a template that is so unappealing to the eye. We look like some government file. At least stupid Myspace was able to be customized. I feel better without it.

I just read a Hunter S. Thompson bio (in comic book form) and admire the man. I started reading his work but dropped the book in the bath and never got around to re-buying it. The forward, written by his editor, explained the depth of his genius that too often gets overshadowed by his antics. A deeply caring man, his suicide makes sense to me; he cared too much.

 Speaking of authors, The Lovecraft hosted a night of reading by Bizarro Books authors. Every author was brilliant and I haven’t laughed at anything positive like that in what feels like an eternity. And then we did a viewing of locally made “Trannysnatchers” the movie.

 Do you know how most of our friends’ bands actually really suck and we have to lie to make them feel good about their “art”? My friends did Trannysnatchers and it actually is really really good. I am proud of them. Even the fact my ex- wife’s band plays during the title couldn’t ruin it for me even though it did jar me a bit. Songs have a powerful affect on me, it can make or break my moods.

 I realize how many fucking insane people I deal with in this new career choice. The nuts really come out of the woodwork online when you own a bar. I can’t even describe how many people are off their rockers, but it’s enough that I’m now oblivious to it. It’s like shooting spitballs at a bullet proof vest. I never thought I would end up so immune to stressful situations. Yay me.

 I might become one of them, though not by choice. I have mercury poisoning and I don’t care. I’m intrigued to see my eventual deterioration and how it affects my life. Crazy people were seen as prophets and touched by god in history. If god wants to touch me, they’re invited

I applaud the maturity of the guy who smashed the sink at the bar and his friend who turned him in. Sink smasher called me and apologized  after I called him out on Facebook. I guess it does have some valid use still.

 I learned anti-depressants and alcohol do not mix (I thought the pharmacist was kidding (sarcasm)) I projectile vomited at The Fez. Luckily I actually enjoy vomiting but I felt bad for The Fez staff because I love those guys and not everyone likes puke. They are welcome to puke in my bar.

 I am enjoying the criticisms of my peers for my unruly behavior, when in the past I have witnessed them being just as bad if not worse. Typical passive aggressive (“pagro”) bullshit.  If it continues, I will fling their shit right back at them because it would probably annoy them and they deserve it. I’m surrounded by adult children.

 I realize how fortunate I am to be where I am at this point in my life, but I do take it for granted. I can’t seem to summon up any peppy witty bullshit, it’s no longer in my nature. I have accepted the lack of support and betrayal by my goth friends for my business venture. I erected a shrine for them and they ignore it. Thank fucking god for the support from the “norms” and the minority of spooky kids who do love it. After being dumped by the ex-wife, and now abandoned by my scene that I have loved for 20 years, I am no longer angry. Now it makes me laugh, a maniacal laugh.

I’m laughing as I write this.

Well it’s been a while since I blogged, life has been a bit hectic and honestly a bit fucked up. I try not to be negative in these blogs and complain so I took a break until I was in the mood to try and be positive, or at least neutral.

We had some issues like EMTs coming with firemen to attempt to administer aid to a girl who passed out. That night sucked, people were laughing at her and even filming her. Another night 2 weeks later a guy resembling Vanilla Ice came in with a gun came he had disarmed from someone who took a shot at him. Six cops armed with automatic rifles visited The Lovecraft that night. That night sucked too. The funny side? The EMTs want to come back when they’re off the clock because they were looking for a cool goth bar, and I made the rifle bearing cops laugh with some classic Jon Horrid humor about the situation. Both incidents were not stressful, just annoying.

My divorce finalized, and I lost my mind like I expected. I hate it when people say “congratulations”, this was not my fucking choice. I will never allow myself the luxury of caring so much about someone when nowadays it is such a weakness.

I still have insomnia, it adds to my stress and makes me crazy.

So here’s the positive side, I’m going to discuss two men in entertainment who I have learned from and somewhat inspired me; Hilly Kristal and Peter Gatien.

Hilly Kristal owned and ran CBGBs in NYC, the bar that brought us American East Coast punk, post punk, hardcore, and alternative. How the fuck he dealt with those talented but spoiled brat punks in the 70s and early 80s I’ll never know. He ran CBGBs for over 30 years and some of the most amazing shows of my life took place there; The Damned, Neurosis, Buzzoven, Requiem In White, Bouncing Souls, Hellchild, Exodus, Disassociate,  and others. I also saw a million shit bands there. Hilly never had to deal with noise complaints or rigid curfews or noise level restrictions. He helped pioneer a revolution.

Peter Gatien is a sadder tale. A native Canadian, after losing an eye as a teenager, he used the money he was awarded for his loss to open jeans stores, sold them and reinvested the money in nightclubs around the world. As an ex-New Yorker, I will focus on what directly affected me. He owned and operated the four largest nightclubs in NYC, including the infamous (and my favorite) The Limelight.

Like CBGBs, I saw epic shows there; Gwar, The Wake, Christian Death, Mindless Self Indulgence, Thrill Kill Kult KMFDM (original line up), Front 242, Faith and the Muse, Rosetta Stone, Das Ich and a bunch others I can’t remember. The Tuesday night goth night was life changing and amazing and I even ventured to the infamous Disco 2000; home turf of the flamboyant club kids including the murderous Michael Alig (see the movie Party Monster).

Peter Gatien created an empire. He worked 16 hour days and did not party at all except for once a year for 3 days in a hotel, when he would go balls out crazy. The NYC police went after him for drug dealing in his club, imprisioned him, shut down his clubs, but ultimately failed. He won his court case because he was a not a drug dealer and took nothing from the dealers. After winning, the IRS went after him for paying employees cash, got imprisioned again for tax evasion, and then deported him from our country.

After making millions from his hard work and dedication, the legal system drained him of his savings trying to defend himself. They made an example of a man following his dream. He rarely even left his office to enjoy the fruits of his labors he worked so hard for. (Watch The Limelight documentary on Netflix for more details).

I had the pleasure of being thrown out of The Limelight 3 times in my life, for being obnoxious and I was usually naked (once when I was even working/modeling there!)

When I opened The Lovecraft, I wanted to open something inspired by what these men created; an environment that bred individuality and an outlet for creative people. I don’t have it as bad as Peter Gatien, but I don’t have it as good as Hilly Kristal. As Lord Michael, Limelight club promoter was quoted saying, “there are no more nightclubs anymore”. And he is right. An entire culture has been tamed, beaten and molded by bureaucrats, politicians and witch hunters.  Dot your I’s and cross your T’s. That is what being a bar owner is all about.

The Future Of Goth?

      So much to my dismay, the majority of my veteran “loyal” dance crowd did not follow me to my own business venture. My new dance crowd is confusing though. More than once, someone comes up to request a song in non-goth attire and request classic and underground great dance songs. Praise to the guy who requested The Glove which I luckily had on me. The Goths who were there were thrilled, and the dance floor continued.

         I had a guy the week prior in non-descript attire request Christian Death. Really? I can’t be a fashion snob if these people are goth at heart and are more willing to dance and have a good time than someone in a corset or pirate shirt.

         I brought up the Christian Death request guy with fellow DJ Maxamillion, and he told me that they were going to be the next Joy Division for hipsters. The local hipster haven was playing them regularly. Can we expect another rash of copy cat bands like what happened to Joy Division?  What’s next, Sex Gang Children imitators?

         Other than Hive, (a night I named and helped create and respect), we are the most goth playing venue in town. (and I always play some EBM). As long as the crowd keeps dancing, the music will keep playing. Whatever the fashion was, is, or becomes.

Did the shrinks and therapists kill Shakespeare? Is love now “co-dependant”? is intimacy a thing of the past and fucking a past time? What happened?

In 2011 I fucked a lot to compensate for my shitty divorce and I hurt feelings and had my feelings hurt. Are you aware there is more to sex then penetration? Random fucking has become boring, I have had 3 threesomes already in the first month of this year.The decadent has become boring, the looseness has become constricting. Do any of you connect anymore? Or is it all the Church Of Me, where fear of intimacy makes you an asshole? Are you scared of falling in love, is it a weakness to you?

I told my shrink tv therapists seemed more effective, I wanted the shrink that Tony Soprano had in the Sopranos,  my shrink agreed. She’s cool, we talked about how lame everyone is now. She’ll be in business forever. That business is booming, that and the prescription drug companies keeping us “sane”. You are all so caught up in Facebook land that you are missing the bigger picture.

Are you really happy being alone and pretending you are tough and “independent” while whittling away your parents’ bank account? Finding out I was STD free after numerous decadent and dirty (don’t get me wrong, I’m smug) experiences do you ever miss the simple act of holding hands? Caressing? Spooning? Why so basic; penetration, facebooking, self satisfaction, and moving on. I have had more sex  last year than my whole life, and it was boringly easy. We as a species are straying into a world of like H.G. Wells’ Eloi; a simple minded race who dwelled on pleasure and got eaten for food by the Morlocks. Is that are our future? Is our government the Morlocks while we wile away the gifts given to us? Let your guard down and you might find a better world, a world based on respect and intimacy instead you prioritize your facebook friend head count or hope you don’t get herpes and have to lie about it so you still get laid. Sex is good, love and respect is better.

Is this progress? I think I’m done just fucking, I want more. (I’m probably full of shit, I’m a pervert, just grumpy)