Julia helped me move into my new one-bedroom studio pad today. We borrowed Tommy’s van to load all my stuff into the trailer.

Now I will be walking distance to the University (R.I.P. UNM, 2004) and good places to eat, other than Dominos and Blake’s lotaburger.

I will miss Jake and Monty, and easy access to rocking a DW drum kit and bass cab in the garage, but at least this way I can be a straight shot away from my band’s practice space anyway.

Also, Kyle and Casey from Flood The Sun just moved into the practice space next to Coma’s.

Coma Recovery Just Released Goddverb on Deep Elm Records.

“This is what the future sounds like…yeah, it’s heavy like that. Like if the giant mechanized robots fromTransformers had a band…they would sound like this. Seeping with texture, tenacity and technical prowess that unveils layers most bands can’t imagine reaching, Coma Recovery‘s headphone-begging collection of progressive post-rock ventures to dark places, nearly drowning you in the expansive nature of the sound. Goddverb is their testament to what it feels like to be human…as seen through they eyes of a band that has always put art form and expression above all else. In a world saturated by the fast buck, the ringtone and the remix, Goddverb reminds us that in the midst an industry collapsing from it’s failure to bring us simple substance, music can still be bold and outspoken, still invoke power and passion, still inspire and confound in the same breath, still hold onto 100% of its integrity. In the end, it doesn’t feel like an album so much as an unrequited love affair with life…branded deep in every song. This is one of the most stunning records to be released this year. Believe it.”

Go here to listen!

Out of the 2,500 people that came to this site last month, 73 people liked me enough to come back.

So that’s pretty cool.

In October I moved in with Jake, drummer of the oldest version of The Coma Recovery. I currently live at his house with his dog, Monty.

That’s not actually a real picture of Monty. If you can picture this dog without his savvy haircut and shampoo’d fur, then you’ll have Monty.

The greatest experience living with Jake to date was a bright, sunny day in mid-October.  Unbeknownst to Jake, Monty had a day to explore town and had eaten and digested a used condom. Whilst a section of it hung from Monty’s ass, Jake (thinking it was just a clump of spider web) made the dire mistake of using his bare fingers to pull the stretchy, poopy magnum all the way out of Monty’s bum.

Unfortunately I pulled up to the driveway only after Jake had scrubbed his hands for the 5th time over. The story coming from Jake’s mouth combined with his tone of disgust gave me a laugh session that probably added 5 years to my life.

Julia and I have made a point to drink chocolate at Kakawa a lot.

Our drummer Casey from Flood The Sun got married. I may have forgotten to mention that Joel (guitar) got engaged and moved to LA with his lady, Ashley.

My bro Josh had a baby named…

Natalie.

Painted this for Julia.

And all the while I was working at Sunshine Theater…. venue-cleaner by day, bar-back by night.

I quit at the beginning of January. There was only so much dried vomit and hip-hop/metal demographic I could take. Then I was called to be an extra on a movie called Ten Year.

I wore the same thing almost everyday for 3 weeks to work 12-hour days as a background actor. That means I’m going to be one of the cheeseballs in the background pantomiming like a drunk while Channing Tatum gives a star-studded performance.

While the movie was shooting, I caught a deathly flu-like sickness from drinking out of water-filled beer bottles. Never drink the prop-water.

The good news is I’ve made some friends who might want me to be an extra while “Iron Man” Downy Jr. himself flies through the mountainous skies of New Mexico.

Coma is still going strong with a fresh rejection notice just in from South By Southwest.

Both Tommy and Will were sorely disappointed with the news (click to enlarge).

Today I drove to my parent’s house through snow and ice because my neighbor stopped paying his internet bill. When his internet goes down, that means nobody else on the street is getting internet.

As we speak.

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.

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.

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.

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 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…

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.

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.