Right after work yesterday I met a bunch of friends at Cuba Cuba for dinner. I’ve heard of this place before but never been there and I found out that have I been missing out for quite some time. The restaurant in located in a small blue house and has a great bar, live local Cuban music and a beautiful patio. I started of the evening with a Couple of mojitos that were excellent with plenty of mint and just the right amount of booze. For dinner I had the Palomilla which was really tender but slightly overpriced, I would suggest the Pan con Bistec which is basically the same thing but on bread and it’s $5 cheaper. I highly suggest Cuba Cuba. It was some damn good eats.

Afterwards we headed over to the Acoma Theatre for their two-for-one ticket night. We watched Martin Moran’s one man show “The Tricky Part”. The performance was fantastic and the writing was even better. The performance confessional memoir of the disturbing events concerning child molestation that took place in Moran’s youth. The details are graphic and the subject matter was obviously emotional. The circumstances of Moran’s life weighed heavily on all in attendance but also made for some lively discussion afterwards.

This discussion continued down the street at Dazzle, where we somehow talked the bouncer into letting us all in without the cover. After a while Future Jazz Project kicked in and tore the place up. Some great booty-shakin’ rump-rockin’ tunes lightened all of our moods and sent many of us to the dance floor. Later in the night we headed to the Funky Buddha to make fun of all the fakesters and get one last drink in. I finally got home at around 2:30 in morning. Having so much fun is a lot of work.

Yesterday started out like absolute crap but got progressively better. I woke up weeping in unconscious tears induced by a horrible nightmare involving the death of my brother and not being told about the funeral. When I got to work I was almost immediately yelled at for a mistake I made in a press release. This was the worst of things though - so don’t feel sorry for me (what are you laughing at?). Then it was off to meet new friends at the old haunt. We had a few drinks and some dinner. I ran into Gideon there and failed to make introductions (for the second time that day), for which I was told off. Apologies to all involved. I have now learned that if a fine young lady bothers to come up to me and say hi, I am obliged to everyone involved in letting them know whom is both giving and receiving the greetings. Afterwards we headed off to the Fillmore to see Modest Mouse. We arrived four songs late and would probably had been later if it weren’t for a heads up call from Gideon. It was a great show if not a little short. I missed a couple of songs that I wanted to hear but I really can’t complain. They sounded exceptionally solid and the beats kept my legs wiggling around all night. Since the show didn’t last as long as we had expected we headed to the uptown for a night-capper, which turned into three night-cappers. Which then turned into a cartwheel contest, drunk dialing, falling off of bar stools, desperate attempts to find the free sonic youth show, gay bars, gay Dan, and gay drinks. We all ended up heading back to my house and staying up to the wee hours talking. I couldn’t even tell you what time it was when they left.

Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads who didn’t like what I said. The good times are killing me. Jaws clenching tight we talked all night, oh but what the hell did we say?

I like to call them the Belle & Sebastion for the elitist. However, they would definitely frown upon me for this description. In fact, they would probably skip the frowning and go straight for a punch in the throat. I picture them screaming, “Elitist?! Bugger off you twit! We’re the working class of Manchester. Fuck you and your elitism! And you can take your B&S and shove it straight up your arse,” as they attack me. But to me that is what they are. And I like them for it. Again it’s those boy/girl vocals and empathic melancholy that have me hooked. Ultimately, they are both better than Belle & Sebastian and are a far cry from snobby, which, for better or worse, puts them in the perfect position to capture that coveted cat-eye-glassed-hello-kitty-courier-bag demographic.

Once stating, “we’ll never package together our early singles – we’ll never do it,” Jamie Holman (Male vocals) proves that despite having a good voice his penchant for sticking to his word is not quite as golden, as Tompaulin released a compilation of all they’re early singles entitled “Everything Is Beautiful And Nothing Hurt” But it would simply be too easy to slap this album up on KHUBS Radio, so I have recreated the most of the album with the original singles in the order they were released (songs 1-8). Then I included the entire “My Life At The Movies” single, which is fairly difficult to find in these united states and not included on the compilation album (songs 9-12). And lastly I included a few of my favorites off the full-length debut album “The Town And The City” (songs 13-17). So turn up your speakers, lay in bed, stare at the ceiling, and enjoy.

It has been rumored that Tompaulin is supposed to have a new full-length album out later this year on Track & Field Records. All of the music you here on KHUBS may be difficult to purchase in the U.S., you may want to start at one of the links below.

I could talk about you. If I wanted to. I could talk about lending, or fucking, or knowing. I could talk about emergency rooms, and unemployment, and Meniere. I could talk about nervous laughter, and security, and insecurity. I could talk about entire Sunday afternoons spent getting drunk, or smoking, or gambling. I could talk about being ultimately blissful, generally thrilled, and hazily ecstatic. If I wanted to. I could talk about wants, and needs, and satisfaction. I could talk about plans, and ideas, and tricks - and whether or not they’re really tricks. I could talk about fingertips, and feet, and hair. I could talk about fear for family, and fear for family, and fear for family. If I wanted to. I could talk about you, or you could talk about me. I could talk to you, but more often than not – as we both already know - it’s going to be you talking to me. I don’t know if it’s important that we all understand this, because it’s hard to talk about understanding. And it’s hard to talk about you. And it’s hard to talk about me. And it’s hard, and more important than any of us realize. I can’t help it. If I wanted to.

Friday was fun but it seemed like it wouldn’t move, it was trapped in pre-Cambrian tar pits. Maybe it was just slow cause I cut out of work at three o’clock and went home and napped. I really needed that nap since I didn’t get home till around two-thirty in the a.m. on Thursday. That night I met up with Pandy and my brother, and we went to an Ethiopian restaurant that was cleverly called Ethiopian restaurant down on 2816 East Colfax. Here we waited and hour and a half before our food was finally brought to us. A meal that was supposed to take a half hour took two full hours. Pre-Cambrian tar pits. After dinner we headed back to my brothers for a quick drink and me and Pandy tried to get our stomachs back in working condition, a situation that plagued us for the rest of the evening. Later we met some new friends at Herman’s Hideaway. I’m not a big fan of Herman’s. It’s just a little too rock & roll for me. Bad, cheesy record executive type of place. It reeks of industry (tar pit). Despite the venue, it was a lot of fun to go out, meet up with great company, sip beers, listen to Rubber Planet, and dance into the wee hours of the evening.

I took Monday off early to go a golf tournament with a bunch of the guys. Now I’m no Chi Chi Rodriguez (I’d prefer his name to his golf game personally), but I did all right last year. This year was a different story. I hadn’t yet golfed this year, I hadn’t even picked up my clubs and gone to the driving range this summer. I don’t know what I was thinking when I figured I would try and play a straight 18 holes right out of the gate, no warm up, and over a year cold. Oh, wait, yeah I do – I was thinking, “Fuck it!” Well my fuck it attitude cost me dearly. As it tends to do. Blisters, a sunburn, and last place makes for a rough round. I’ve got about five blisters on my had that began to develop at around hole 4, were burst by hole 6, and rubbed raw the reminder of the holes. My nose is once again a drunk shiny red. Winning the princess jacket has scarred both my pride and respect. Yes, those 18 holes cost me dearly. But you know what, I’d do it all again tomorrow for another sunny afternoon off of work, in the park, with a white ball, free beer, and battery operated transportation.

I felt bad coming into work this morning. Not because I didn’t want to be here. In fact, I’m looking forward to today because I’m going to cut out early in order to go golfing this afternoon. No, work has nothing to do with it. I felt bad because I completely wasted the weekend and didn’t even realize how big of a waste it was till I sat down in my little cube this morning. Oh well. It was relaxing anyway. I had lots of time on the couch. We like each other - me and my couch.

A highlight of the weekend was going over to Gijyun’s for a little off the wagon party. I invited along my brother and Pandy. It’s always interesting meeting other bloggers for the first time. This was no exception. Gijyun was really cool, our conversations flowed really easy and we were even often talking over each other, and my brother and Pandy (as well as myself) totally loved hanging around and getting to know her. Somehow I had a little more to drink than I expected and we managed to piss off the neighbors which is always a bonus in my book. Anyway, I had a great time, thanks Gijyun.

I was somehow up and at the Cherry Creek Arts Festival before noon on Monday. It was pretty good. There were a bunch of artists that were there two years ago (I didn’t go last year) that I really enjoy (Jamie Perry, John Harris) and a handful of new ones that I really enjoyed (Kathleen Eaton). Gijyun might be interested to know I saw a “performance” by the two-fisted rock-me artist. He “did” Bono. Mostly it made me giggle, stare at my shoes and shake my head, and become embarrassed, alternatively. It was pretty hot there so I didn’t spend as much time looking around as I had previous times. It was a pleasant afternoon.

4th Of July Party, Dutch’s Backyard, Denver

Party Decorations, Dutches Backyard, Denver

Illegal Fireworks From A Box, Dutch’s Frontyard, Denver

Another great, long, 4th of July weekend. I left work early on Friday and went home and slept till the evening. Bored and lonely I went out to a few local bars to see if I could round up some entertainment. I stopped by the old haunt (which has finally reopened after a several months of remodeling. I haven’t decided if I like the new look or not yet though. I’ll have to give it some time) and then visited a handful of extra bars. I found some decent conversations but nothing more entertaining or annoying than that.

Slept in on Saturday. Did a lot of reading. Walked around the block. Slept. Ate. Shit. I don’t know. Somehow the day hazed by. Blur.

Sunday afternoon I went over to Dutch’s house for his annual 4th of July party. This years party was dubbed the “girls are great party” with purpose of recognizing Dutch’s newborn twins girls and nearly-two- year old daughter.

Highlights will go here when the newsletter comes out. Though, as Dutch said, some of them will have to remain unmentionable.

Damn, has it been another entire week since an update. I’m sorry. I’ve been doing a lot lately some of it really exciting; other parts are just… well there nothing really. Routine you could call it I guess.

I celebrated my father’s birthday last Wednesday. We all went out to Mr. Sushi. Pandy, my brother and I got him a dvd so he can figure out to how work his global positioning system. We also got him a carrying case for protection of his expensive technology, in case the time came that he should ever figure out how to work it. He expressed his enjoyment in the harassment by flipping us all the bird and laughing heartily.