So where are we? What day is it? What year?

I know, I know... It's taking fucking forever to get this ship out of port and believe me, I'm every bit as pissed off about it as you are exasperated. Still no word on a programmer to replace Rob, and I've called practically every recording studio in Boston only to be told 8-track DAT is a "west-coast thing" and nobody has the equipment to access the 'Androgyny' sessions. Which has resulted in the hold-up with the single release. I'm at my wit's end! I know somebody in this fucking town has a DA-88 and if it's the last fucking thing I do I'm going to find it.

Meanwhile... we've still been pushing hard to build a community of friends at MySpace... to no avail... Which makes me wonder.... Is this project destined for failure? Is there really, truly, just nobody interested in my music? I friend people, they listen to my tracks (some of them, anyway), and I never get acceptance. or so much as a passive comment. I'm beginning to think MySpace is just a big waste of time, anyway- but it's worrying that my tunes just don't seem to be resonating with people.

Well, onward. Most of you know now about the Anicent Future 7" vinyl that will be one of the free goodies deployed with Enter The Dragon. I'm almost more excited about that than the EP. Vinyl! Sexy. The other schwag I've put together I think will be fun. We've created a poster, two sets of badges, various other odds and ends. I'm hoping I can find a few folks who might be interested in remixing "Roadside Prophet" for a 12" vinyl release that I intend for later in the year. (Perfect opportunity to employ that infamous Bush/Hitler montage that ruffled so many feathers.) Halfway Down The Lion's Throat will at this point be pushed back to early 2006. Just not enough hours in the day! And the way things are looking I'll be lucky to get Enter The Dragon out by August.

I finally upgraded to OS X Tiger this week so I can get out and buy up some new software, Logic Pro, maybe Reason. As well as some new hardware.

And that... I think.... is all.

There's something surreal about standing outside a Mexican restaurant on Cinco de Mayo next to four skinny French boys conversing away about Paris as they wait to get in. Into a Mexican Restaurant. On Cinco de Mayo. Vive le France?

I only got bits and pieces of the conversation; hours I'm frittering away on my French lessons and the best I can do is pick out a word or two. Not terribly encouraging!

May 15 looms like Goliath ready to lay down an iron fist... We shot the EP cover last week and it looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. Exactly the way I visualized it, which is a rare but invigorating occurence.

Meanwhile... can somebody fucking tell me why poppers don't seem to be allowed to be called "poppers" in the US? Here they call it "video head cleaner". As in, "yes, I'll take this wee bottle of Eros, these handcuffs and- oh! How about some video head cleaner? Do you have Jungle Juice?" ....

Fucking puritanical hypocrites.... The FDA is banning sperm donation from homosexuals, the Attorney General thinks obscenity is Priority #1 and Blair is back for another round in the ring. I call bullshit.

I've decided to dedicate Enter The Dragon to John Merrick, whom I've always held a deep identification with.

This poster hung in my childhood living room, and made a deep, early impression on me. The film is, today, one of my favorites.

http://phreeque.tripod.com/joseph_merrick.html

Fuck this '420' shit, I want to know when heroin chic will be back in vogue.

La Columna, Frida Kahlo

So FINALLY I get to let fly with the "big plans"........ First and foremost, as some of you are aware I have decided to prepare an EP of tracks (possibly/probably from the forthcoming fall LP) to distribute to some of the smaller bigger labels as a "demo" to see what chance in hell I might have of getting signed, getting some cash, and getting the fuck out of advertising. And in true "Drioux fashion" (I've never been able to do anything all small and humble-like), I've decided to turn it into an actual release..... The EP will be called Enter The Dragon, and will be available for sale May 15 with shipping beginning on July 1. The first 250 buyers will get some free schwag, ( not the least of which will be these nifty little badges. ) And hopefully some other swank schwag, too. And best of all, it'll sell at bargain bin prices: $5 + shipping and all the free goodies we can come up with. Tell your friends, tell your foes, tell your loved ones, tell every fucking person you know 'cos I want this sucker flying off the shelves. ;-)

Coinciding with the release of Enter The Dragon will be a brand new roxy foxy website loaded to the gills with goodies, including (finally!) a state-of-the-art Creatures-esque message board (no more of that single-thread bullshit), a shop, a gallery, various downloads and a new members-only section (alas, paid- but the price will be right, I promise) with exclusive MP3 downloads, a mix deck toy to whittle away hours creating your own custom music on the fly, a library of downloadable MP3 loops for more robust remixing of Drioux favorites and least-favorites alike, discounted merchandise through the drioux.com shop and I'm still coming up with other goodies. (How does a "Guest List Pool" sound- where members receive first-come first-serve basis admission to gigs whenever I have a guest list spot available? I guess that means I'll have to play out, doesn't it? And please submit your suggestions, we want that paid section to be worth all the ground-zero-bang for your buck.)

Ride 'em hard and put 'em away wet,

D-

No one ever came to me and said, "You're a fool. There isn't such a thing as God. Somebody's been stuffing you." It wasn't a murder. I think God just died of old age. And when I realized that he wasn't any more, it didn't shock me. It seemed natural and right.

Maybe it was because I was never properly impressed with a religion. I went to Sunday school and liked the stories about Christ and the Christmas star. They were beautiful. They made you warm and happy to think about. But I didn't believe them. The Sunday School teacher talked too much in the way our grade school teacher used to when she told us about George Washington. Pleasant, pretty stories, but not true.

Religion was too vague. God was different. He was something real, something I could feel. But there were only certain times when I could feel it. I used to lie between cool, clean sheets at night after I'd had a bath, after I had washed my hair and scrubbed my knuckles and finger nails and teeth. Then I could lie quite still in the dark with my face to the window with the trees in it, and talk to God. "I am clean, now. I've never been as clean. I'll never be cleaner." And somehow, it was God. I wasn't sure that it was … just something cool and dark and clean.

That wasn't religion, though. There was too much of the physical about it. I couldn't get that same feeling during the day, with my hands in dirty dish water and the hard sun showing up the dirtiness on the roof-tops. And after a time, even at night, the feeling of God didn't last. I began to wonder what the minister meant when he said, "God, the father, sees even the smallest sparrow fall. He watches over all his children." That jumbled it all up for me. But I was sure of one thing. If God were a father, with children, that cleanliness I had been feeling wasn't God. So at night, when I went to bed, I would think, "I am clean. I am sleepy." And then I went to sleep. It didn't keep me from enjoying the cleanness any less. I just knew that God wasn't there.

He was a man on a throne in Heaven, so he was easy to forget.

Sometimes I found he was useful to remember; especially when I lost things that were important. After slamming through the house, panicky and breathless from searching, I could stop in the middle of a room and shut my eyes. "Please God, let me find my red hat with the blue trimmings." It usually worked. God became a super-father that couldn't spank me. But if I wanted a thing badly enough, he arranged it.

That satisfied me until I began to figure that if God loved all his children equally, why did he bother about my red hat and let other people lose their fathers and mothers for always? I began to see that he didn't have much to do about hats, people dying or anything. They happened whether he wanted them to or not, and he stayed in heaven and pretended not to notice. I wondered a little why God was such a useless thing. It seemed a waste of time to have him. After that he became less and less, until he was…nothingness.

I felt rather proud to think that I had found the truth myself, without help from any one. It puzzled me that other people hadn't found out, too. God was gone. We were younger. We had reached past him. Why couldn’t they see it? It still puzzles me.

Frances Farmer, "God Dies," The Scholastic, May 2, 1931

On the preservation of Saints at Fortean Times

Today we're off to Regarding Evil at MIT. I'm hoping Matthew Barney will actually be there. Do you think it would be tacky of me to ask his autograph on my DVD of The Order?

(Edit 8 hours later... No Matthew Barney, just Boyd Rice snorting blow off the back of his hand, some unexpected ex's (not mine) and a bunch of talking heads... Very disappointing. They did show a Barney film that was, likewise, surprisingly disappointing. Stiff cocks rubbing up against industrial machinery on parade. Humm. Oh well.)

My notes on the 'Regarding Evil' summit (thoughts nobody at the summit expressed, to my appall and dismay):
"'Evil' is wholly subjective.
'Evil' is just a word people use to dismiss other people or ideas that don't conform to the moral code of popular opinion.
It is a safety mechanism.
Dismissing something as 'evil' absolves one from the responsibility of ever having to explore what is frightening or disgusting - it absolves one from the responsibility of ever having to seek out meaningful insight. 'Evil' is a final word, a non-negotiable ultimate judgement."

I think it would have been a more interesting program if they'd had a linguist to talk about 'evil' as a word, about context and etymology. Because I think those things are especially important to the concept- particularly when one of the talking heads starts telling us about theology; the entire discussion was framed with the assumption that everybody in the room had a god, a heaven and a hell- or at least, that's the way I perceived things; so a removed, non-religious perspective of "evil" as a concept was never really discussed without the theology sniffing at it's heels.

"The Madonna of Minamata"
W. Eugene Smith, ca. 1970s

Smith's classic book, "Minamata: Words and Photographs," is about the site of a horrific 1970s case of widespread mercury poisoning. No one who sees Smith's photos can ever forget them. There was a years-long struggle between the townspeople of Minamata and the corporation responsible for the mercury poisoning, which did not want to admit fault. During that struggle, corporate guards beat Smith so badly he lost his eyesight. -Molly Ivins

New EPA mercury rule omits conflicting data
Molly Ivins on mercury 'restrictions'
'Minamata Disease' at Wikipedia

Click to enlarge.

"Masochism (I), After Cimabue"
Vandalism, 2005

Yes, that's Jesus with a hard-on.

'The Origin of The World', by Courbet, or as I like to call it, 'The Crack'
I have a postcard of this painting on my refrigerator. We saw the real thing in Paris- by which I mean the painting, not real-live pussy. Lovely.

Favorite Quotes From A Favorite Film
From "Network" (1976):

Diana Christensen: Hi. I'm Diana Christensen, a racist lackey of the imperialist ruling circles.
Laureen Hobbs: I'm Laureen Hobbs, a badass commie nigger.
Diana Christensen: Sounds like the basis of a firm friendship.
--
Diana Christensen:: Look, I sent you all a concept analysis report yesterday. Did any of you read it?
[Aides stare blankly at her]
Diana Christensen: Well, in a nutshell, it said: "The American people are turning sullen. They've been clobbered on all sides by Vietnam, Watergate, the inflation, the depression; they've turned off, shot up, and they've fucked themselves limp, and nothing helps." So, this concept analysis report concludes, "The American people want somebody to articulate their rage for them." I've been telling you people since I took this job six months ago that I want angry shows. I don't want conventional programming on this network. I want counterculture, I want anti-establishment. I don't want to play butch boss with you people, but when I took over this department, it had the worst programming record in television history. This network hasn't one show in the top twenty. This network is an industry joke, and we'd better start putting together one winner for next September. I want a show developed based on the activities of a terrorist group, "Joseph Stalin and His Merry Band of Bolsheviks," I want ideas from you people. This is what you're paid for. And by the way, the next time I send an audience research report around, you'd all better read it, or I'll sack the fucking lot of you. Is that clear?
--
Diana Christensen: What's really bugging me now is my daytime programming. NBC's got a lock on daytime - lousy game shows - and I'd like to bust them. I'm thinking of doing a homosexual soap opera, "The Dykes": The heart-rending saga about a woman hopelessly in love with her husband's mistress.
--
Diana Christensen: I'm sorry for all those things I said to you last night. You're not the worst fuck I ever had. Believe me, I've had worse. You don't puff or snorkel and make death-like rattles. As a matter of fact, you're rather serene in the sack.
--
Howard Beale: This is not a psychotic breakdown; it's a cleansing moment of clarity.

--o0o--

Picasso, La Celestina, 1904

I had a breakthrough this afternoon working on the remake of Androgyny- I'm so fucking stoked. I love the lyrics, vocals & subject matter but the instrumentation & production on the original cut were crap. I tried working on a redo earlier this winter but to no avail, so this new bit of success with it is thrilling. Looks like it'll be on the album, after all. Yay!

(Edit: Christ, the original song is 7 years old now. Time has not been good to it..... but I hope I can rescue those vocals from the master tapes...... 30 fucking takes has to amount to SOMETHING in the end.)

01. No More Heroes 3:31 The Stranglers<
02. Mambo Sun 3:41 T. Rex<
03. Anthrax 3:21 Gang of 4<
04. Funtime 2:57 Iggy Pop<
05. In A Lonely Place (Fac. 33 1981) 6:18 New Order (Joy Division?)<
06. Psycho Killer 4:19 Talking Heads <
07. Twisted Nerve 1:27 Bernard Herrman<
08. Sister Morphine 5:29 Marianne Faithfull<
09. Snow 2:45 Mekons<
10. Third Uncle 2:33 Brian Eno with Bauhaus<
11. Der Mussolini 3:55 DAF<
12. Homosapien 4:35 Pete Shelly<
13. Needle in the Camel's Eye 3:09 Brian Eno<
14. This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us 3:06 Sparks<
15. She's Lost Control 5:50 Grace Jones<
16. African Reggae 6:18 Nina Hagen

As befits the entire history of my musical life, the moment I make a solid plan the wheels fall off the wagon and the plan becomes thoroughly derailed..... I'm sorry to report that unforeseen circumstances have forced the delayed release of Halfway Down The Lion's Throat . The bad news is, right now we're looking at a Fall 2005 release- I'm hoping for October. The good news is, the EP may in fact become an LP with the benefit of added production time...... No guarantees, but we'll see. The way things have been going I half-expect a swarm of locusts to descend any minute.

A year ago this time I was gearing up for my first journey abroad, to lovely Paris, and the last week or so I've been looking back longingly and wishing I could be there now. There's something amazing about that city to me that transcends the ordinary "oohs" and "aahs" the come with novelty; there's a level of quality and pride with which Parisians seem to endow every task they perform or everything they produce. I don't feel like I'm in a disposable culture when I visit Paris; and everything feels fresh and invigorating. Twice I went, last year, and both times I came back to the states feeling recharged and inspired anew. I really miss that.

After some days of struggling with this little yuletide confection I finally had the breakthrough just before dawn this morning. Not an easy birth, this one. The tender songs never are, for me.

I think this is because I write as an exorcism. To expel demons. To rid myself of poisons.

Tenderness, however, is not something I want to be rid of. So I have a particularly hard time penning a tender lyric. Fury and disgust come easily for me; tenderness is risky. Thrilling, but hard to tease out of its shell. And finding the right vehicle for a tender sentiment is no small task either; I waxed and waned for days about theme, structure, narrative (or not), vocal melody. What did I want this song to be? I knew in my bones what I wanted to convey - sentimentally... But I didn't have a clue how I wanted to say it.

The title of the song is lifted from a forgettable book by Jack Kerouac. I was never much impressed by it, but always loved the phrase 'Old Angel Midnight' and jotted it down for future cribbing. This was some years ago I first tied that string around my finger. At last we have fruition.

She stood there unveiled on the stage like an amputee Venus, the Beer Goddess, on legs of glass; she beamed, she was resplendent in the lustre of that marvelous old cinematographic technique that makes all gorgeous things glow ethereal. And then the legs began to crack and gush forth a blood of beer, and she crashed in sobbing tears.

Great film, that- The Saddest Music In The World . Quirky and unusual, but quite entertaining. Rosselini is such a marvelous talent, so magnetic.

The holiday season came upon me with brevity this year (and it didn't sponge off, the filthy wanker). The tree is up, my inner Martha Stewart is starting to get breathless at the thought of garlands and icicles, of nutmeg and clove and holiday parties delight. If I don't get my hands on some Abuelita before the first storm breaks the horizon, heads will roll.

Dance to that and stay fashionable: "Wada Na Tod", Lata Mangeshkar