Coma Show – Wool Warehouse

The Coma Recovery played tonight at a venue I’ve never been to before called the Wool Warehouse. I expected it to be a real warehouse with a bunch of wholesale stock wool, but it was much more like a hotel ballroom.

The headliner was Earth Crisis. I think around 10 bands played. This show had a clever theme; half of the bands were deemed as “Good” and the other half, “Evil”. Basically every band was placed in the “Good” category unless it was a hardcore band.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen a show like this. The kids still hardcore dance. They still swing the arms. They still punch the ground. They still kick the air. It’s all fun and games until a security guard gets punched in the face and bleeds, which of course really happened.

Tom’s Wrist Slash

Coma was supposed to have band practice today. For whatever reason, practice was canceled, so Tommy and I talked about meeting up to jam anyway. Soon after the conversation, the outside temperature dropped 10 degrees, and it starting raining. So I said “Maybe we be jammin’ another day”.

Later, I got a call from Tommy urgently needing assistance because he slipped while chopping open some coconuts at his house. I collected gauze and other bandage material and drove over to his house.

The wound looked like a mouth had formed where his thumb meets his wrist, carrying a lazy expression of slightly parted lips. The mouth drooled red fluid, and by the time I got there it was mostly done drooling and spitting, so long as Tommy kept the mouth closed.

The whole thing was quite the bummer considering that if we had band practice or if I decided to jam, the coconut knife-slip never would have happened. Plus Tommy could have comfortably gone to yoga without any fears of wounds opening up during down-dogs and side-planks.

The story is that after 3 hours in the waiting room, the doctor finally began to look at the wound, tied a mask on to take a closer look, and blood shot straight out.

While Tommy was semi-irritated about the incident for short-term reasons, I’ve been thinking about the unfortunate location of the wound, and the eyes that will draw conclusions when seeing Tommy’s scar for the first time.

Moment of Highest Tension

This is usually the time of year where the cold is somehow not that cold anymore, despite dreadful numerical readings on the thermometer. It is during this part of the season when I often consider buying a new jacket for the last time.

Tonight I met up with Tommy and Dustin to hang out, talk band and discuss the drummer situation. Cabernet was present, so as time progressed, the conversation sort of metamorphosed into unrelated offensive humor, a bit of unsettling man-gossip, and then to metaphysical theories on paranormal phenomena.

Sometimes while I’m absorbed in these types of conversations, I tune in to what I’m verbalizing and try to seek out the line between profundity and ignorance. If I decide on profundity, I then try to find the line between wonderment and arrogance.

The line of truth does not always immediately present itself. When I reach no conclusion on what the source of my words are based, and hence a way to comfortably and confidently proceed with the topic, my physiology may change, a sweat drop may form. Then, amongst the moment of highest tension and fear of being found out or questioned, I wave my hands around in the air, relax, and say: “Hey, hey guys? WWJD.” And everything is perfect again.

Drums-Bass Jam Time

Tommy and I have been jamming bass and drums off and on since July… maybe, max, five times to write some non-coma stuff.

While we figure out what we’re going to do about Coma and the drummer situation, we’re jamming whatever, however, whenever… forever?

Here’s a video of Tommy following my lead as the loud-muff bass player that I enjoy becoming. Never mind the mistakes. Just picture yourself lifting weights while listening.

Will Is Now Riley

Will has decided to move to Austin for good. I guess there was a moment where I didn’t think he’d go back, because, you know, artists and stuff.

Tonight, I went to Dustin’s house to hang out with them for one last Will session. He’s going to Louisiana for a month first. That’s where his family is, and everybody there calls him Riley. He’s pretty sure it’s going to stick this time.

As for the future of Coma? Dios mio…

Coma Tour – Santa Fe

Last show of the tour, at the Santa Fe Brewing Company. When we arrived, there were only groups of families at tables, a high number of individuals who were new-born infants, another section of people performing sign language with one another. It didn’t look like a fitting gig for us, but it was good in the end.

My cousin Jon (John Courage) came to the show. Eventually, more people came out because they saw an article about us in the Santa Fe newspaper.

Coma, Hellas Mounds, and My Dads shared one last farewell moment in the bar. I ended up talking with Hellas bassist Emily the most, about Aliens, Reality, Human Existence, Massage Therapy, and how upright bass F-holes can be combined with Salvador Dalí’s style in tattoo form.

And then I decided to play ping-pong, secretly with a foosball ball; always a crowd-pleaser.

Coma Tour – Albuquerque

We reunited with Hellas Mounds tonight, pre-show, to eat a delicious culinary chili dish that Tommy made. The Mounds were super happy, because they had been living in the parking lot behind the Launchpad for 12 hours in the cold with no food.

The Launchpad gives drink tickets to bands, 2 per person, every time we play. The good thing is, I had saved up a lot of them from previous shows. So did Dustin. Whiskey tonics for all. Here’s a video from the Albuquerque show brought to you by Paul Dackiewicz:

The Coma Recovery – Illuminator (Live 1/7/10) from Paul Dackiewicz on Vimeo.

Coma Tour – Tucson

Tonight there was a kid desperate for attention, being super imposing with everybody, shaking hands, exclaiming things about his good mood, dancing around, singing at people. There is often this type of guy at shows, and it’s starting to wear on me. We had one in Pomona too. It’s the type of person who stands in the very front when the band plays, dances, looks at everybody straight in the face, pumps his fist in the air to the music, tries to high-five and hug people around him, and is usually dressed in Mervyns clothes.

I see it happen all the time in Albuquerque, but apparently it’s a world-wide phenomenon. There really needs to be a name for these people, because they all act the same. While they smile and act like they’re super high on life, there’s this underlying feeling that if anybody gives him an “omg, stfu”, he would flip out and a fight would ensue.

I really hate fights. But lately I let my mind explore vivid, personal beat-down scenarios; the common fantasy to be the ultimate lesson-giver, law-layer, Chuck Norris-type figure.

After the show, we set off to drive straight home through the night. We played lots of word games, including making up band names, which seemed pretty hilarious at the time.

Coma Tour – Phoenix

We dished out cash for a hotel last night, just outside of the city, so this morning we decided to drive back by taking highway 1 through Malibu.

For breakfast we went to an organic market called Erewhon where I spent another $20 on a single meal, most of it being the price of a super tonic tea. I felt pretty good after drinking it. But eleven-dollars-good? Maybe. Chances are, it added 11 minutes to my life span.

We made the drive from LA to Phoenix, AZ. Tonight we played at Revolver Records, another Vinyl Record shop.  Josh came to the show and we stayed at his house, where old friends and Las Crucians John and Paige Ashcroft live.

Coma Tour – Los Angeles

Today, Tommy, Noel, and I went to RAWvolution in Santa Monica. It’s a raw foods restaurant with super high-priced everything. But boy, was it delicious. Even Helen Hunt likes it. I never would have known it if Noel didn’t point and say “that’s Helen Hunt”. What a curse to be famous.

I got Nori Tacos and a Maca Smoothie. $20 later, we walked down to the beach to meet Dustin and Will, and prance around like a bunch of tourists in the sand.

A little bit of joy was unearthed from the forgotten mantle of childhood emotions.

We played tonight at Vacation, a vinyl record shop. I started to like the idea of getting into and buying vinyl… for my non-existent record player that I’d also have to buy.