I didn’t get much done while waiting for Ziggy to call me back. I couldn’t concentrate enough to work, didn’t really feel like I could eat. Television failed to hold my interest. Remo had a bunch of books on a shelf but I couldn’t bring myself to start one. Starting a book is like striking up a conversation with a stranger and sometimes you just don’t want to get sucked into the wrong one.

I made the mistake of turning on the TV and caught a clip of a news piece on the charity shindig. There was Ziggy, being shepherded by an entourage, Antonio right behind him looking very Secret Service, two women, two other guys… Entourage was the right word for them. Ziggy looked very small in the midst of them. The little prince. Maybe I imagined he looked sort of lonely, too. I wondered which one of the two guys had played the guitar.

I turned off the TV before I could beat myself up any more. Continue Reading »

It’s All I Can Do

(Are you joining in the re-read from the beginning? Posting again now at Wattpad! One chapter a day is appearing there from now until it’s caught up! If you do start reading again there, please note you can vote for each chapter! Click the star in the upper right corner on each new chapter page to help upvote it so other Wattpad users can discover it!)

When I turned on the engine the radio came on, and the first thing I heard was Ziggy’s voice.

Universe, I thought, now you’re just fucking with me. Continue Reading »

I Go To Extremes

(News: On Monday we will start an “official” re-read of Daron’s Guitar Chronicles on Wattpad! Posts #1-30 are live already over there, people are leaving comments on those chapters, please join in! And on Sept 15, we’ll officially begin posting new chapters daily from #31 until we’re caught up! -ctan)

What ensued was a songwriting binge that went on for… I’m not sure how long. A couple of weeks? Remo was wrong about therapy putting a block on my creative energy. Instead, each session was like a Pandora’s box of (painful) song ideas. They would come flying out and I’d scramble to catch them all when I got back to the house. I figured I was not a great person to be around while wrestling with that shit, so other than George Joseph, the cleaning lady, and the pizza delivery guy, I didn’t much interact with humans.
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(Remember next week we’re starting an “official” re-read of Daron’s Guitar Chronicles on Wattpad! Posts #1-30 are live already over there and on Sept 15, we’ll officially begin posting new chapters daily from #31 until we’re caught up! -ctan)

Remo waited until we were on the way to the airport to finally tell me what he thought of the whole BNC/Ziggy situation. He was driving and the plan was I was going to take the Jeep from there.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said. “What you had looming over you was a couple of potentially expensive lawsuits, potential blockage of your ability to perform, pretty much guaranteed death of the band, and debt.”

“Well, not guaranteed…

“Daron. Enough with denial.”

“Okay, yeah,” I gave in, not knowing that another shoe was about to drop. Continue Reading »

Heart Like a Wheel

So the first thing that I did when I got to LA was eat. Remo took me through an In and Out Burger drive-thru (or was it Fatburger? not sure, he was driving, I just did the eating…) and then we went home and drank bourbon while sitting outside by the pool while I told him bits and pieces of everything that had been going on with me. So he eventually pieced together what all was going on with me and Ziggy and BNC and the various messed up situations intersecting there. He didn’t say much about it, though. Yet.

I slept until one in the afternoon the next day. I crawled out of the guest room to the kitchen and stared at the contraption that I thought might be a coffee grinder and pondered whether I had enough brain cells to operate it without breaking it or maiming myself. Continue Reading »

Things Can Only Get Better

I’ll say right off the bat therapy is weird. The reason I say that is that I really thought a therapist would tell me that my constant need to distinguish weird from normal was wrong and I should change it. But what my therapist actual said was that was perfectly normal.

Weird. Continue Reading »

I’ll Be Your Chauffeur

So here’s when I confess that I was stupid. Not that I did something stupid, because it was what I didn’t do that was the proof of just how dumb I was. And I don’t mean stubborn or reckless. I mean I made a dumb mistake, really. Okay, actually, this explanation will make a lot more sense later, but right now, just hear my mea culpa, because that’s how much I need to say it. Continue Reading »

Liner Notes: August 2014

It’s a crazybusy week for me (Cecilia) because I had a book launch yesterday so I’m in the midst of a flurry of guest blogs appearances, chats, etc. (I’ll be on my uStream channel live tomorrow 8:30-9:30pm talking about the book SLOW SATISFACTION:

But I wanted to update you all on some stuff going on with DGC and some new ways I could use some help.

First, Site Updates! Continue Reading »

Blues From A Gun

Artie said good night a little while after that. It was the dinner hour and I was too angry and upset to feel tipsy.

I ended up in the tiny phone booth squeezed between the restroom doors in a diner not far from Sarah’s (she’d left word with her doorman to meet her there) using my calling card to try to reach Carynne. Continue Reading »

Merry Go Round

I talked my way into Wenco the way Digger would have talked his way into the best restaurant in the city. With equal parts bullshit and bravado and being nice when it counted. Lucky for me, Artie was there that day.

His office was just as cramped and cluttered as the last time I was here, three years ago. He shook my hand and cleared a chair for me to sit in. When he saw my look was kind of grim, he shut the door so no one could eavesdrop what we were saying, though he kept up his gladhandy demeanor while he worked his way around to his side of the desk to sit down. “Your name’s been popping up in a lot of songwriting credits on our labels lately.”

“Oh, has it?” I tried to be casual. “I did a lot of work when I was in LA last year. Didn’t really pay attention to the labels.” That last bit wasn’t me being cavalier: that was true. I didn’t know what label most bands were recording for, and the checks were mostly going to Carynne.

“Remo keeps me up to date on you when he can,” Artie added. “But I’m guessing you’re not just here because you were in the neighborhood?”
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