Tonight is the premiere of Maria’s production of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf” at Onassis Cultural Center. Also Maria’s birthday. Tomorrow I start my German tour. That’s all of it.
From a show with Dorian Gray of Cagliari in Roma. On the way to the show we were caught up in a real tempest. A tornado. Needless to say, no one came to the show, except a couple of very loyal friends.
Last night of Master and Margarita. What a trip this has been, dudes.
From a series of photos we did in 2015 to promote The Master and Margarita. We set up a photobooth with a webcam, a laptop, and a painted ham in the foyer of the national theatre at Rex, inviting people to “Take your picture with the devil.”
I will play for Amsterdam’s bizarreness curators, the Illuseum on Sunday January 19th. I believe the address is legible from the poster. If not, it is St. Joseph the Concrete Church Erik de Roddestr. near J. Van Galen Straat, Amsterdam, Netherlands. Doors open at 21:30 and the entrance is 7,50 euros. I am joined in this endeavor by my friend Georgio “the dove” Valentino with his guitar and his forelock.
After the show. Excellent restaurant tonight. Spicy pumpkin and revithia and other good stuff. Few people no loud music.blr evernote
Stinky dressing room. Like Athens 20 years ago. More. I took a pillow off the couch in my dressing room to rest my head on my yoga mat. After my yoga, my neck was itching me. I investigated the pillow and the couch from which it had come and saw a multitude of identical black dots. whoops. bedbugs. delightful when combined with 50 year old urine smell. Informed later by Yani that the dressing rooms were even worse before and that their current state was the result of a cleaning program instituted by him.blr, evernote
Terrible loud restaurant. The dancers like it. Old folks outside with the smokers.blr evernote
Everything I hate in a restaurant after a show. Trying hard not to just leave.
I saw a post on my friend Esmerelda Kent’s Facebook page and got on this taxidermy kick. I decided to include a gallery of some photos I took in Porto in 2010 and Paris in 2011 of examples of the taxidermist’s art. The Porto exhibition was in the Museum of Natural History, tucked away in a neglected corner. The animals were all pretty dusty and disheveled and there was a miasma in the air, a desperate funk of obscurity and moldy leather.
There is no further justification for this post. Just that this is what I was viewing as I was re-acquainting myself with the world online this morning.
My own stuffed gallery
Last night I dreamt of elvis. He was sitting in my living room playing and singing CC rider on an acoustic guitar. I was singing along from the kitchen. I told him “Elvis, you should do it like that in your show. The people would die! You would be bigger than ever!” He said “thank you very much”. Later I was at his show. The crowd were being led by some MC in a Hare Krishna-like chant of “Elvis Presley! Elvis Presley! Elvis PresLEEEE!”
I woke up to discover that Elvis’ picture in the living room had fallen down and was coming out of its frame! Ooooo-eeeeee! Too much, man.
Then I woke up and it was Christmas morning in Athens. Santa didn’t bring me nothin’. Maria gave me a scarf. I like it. It is black and blue. Last night, on our way home from the cinema there was a really good swing band playing Jingle Bells in the Platia Klathmonos. I dug it the most, cats. I found out later that they were the Athens City Band. Public employees.
Now we see what Christmas day brings. Ho ho ho.
later that same day….
Had some amazing food at an architect friend’s house. I overporked, so came home to lie down on my yoga mat and listen to christmas programs. I guess that’s that for that. Next big event is New Year’s Eve in Rijeka, Croatia. Stay tuned.
I been workin’ on the venerable “temple of elvis” on my website, trimmin’ away the dead wood, addin’ some more.
thank you very much.
July 11, 2005
Hello, my little chickadees. Miss me? I know it has been many moons since I have generated a wee missive like this, but hey, who counts such things among dear compas and friends such as we?
As is pretty normal these days, I am traveling around with tuxedomoon. This last session of my life as a singing baggage handler has taken me first to Amsterdam, then Naples, then Mestre, near Venice and now back to Amsterdam.
We are the guests of this sort of dada surrealist community group called the Illuseum. They are sponsoring a festival of events and exhibitions called “New Atlantis” to which we have been invited. We are conducting workshops and performing hither and yon, including at the perennial “Melkweg”.
I arranged and conducted arrangements of several Tuxedomoon songs, including “Jinx” which were sung by a spontaneous choir of locals at one such encounter. Steven worked with a group of local Moroccan lads on the TM number “Courante Marocaine”, but they flaked and ran when I started singing the call to prayer at rehearsal. They were offended, even though I told them I was sincere and reverent in doing so. There was also a woman who played an Alphorn onstage with us.
George Kakanakis, Peter and others went around filming for a possible film to be called “Bardo Hotel”.
I have been riding an old (circa 1920) bicycle around, lent to me for the duration by Grace de la Luna. This place is bike heaven. As you know, there are bike paths, roads really, everywhere with their own set of traffic lights and street markings and all. There is real bicycle traffic here; you have to be on guard just like driving a car. There are hundreds of thousands of bicycles on the road every day. Wow.
Today was old Blaine’s 52nd birthday. Way hey. Happy birthday to me. I’m not getting older, I’m getting…..um…well, I AM getting older. I frantically do yoga and ride a bicycle but nothing will persuade that old grim reaper to turn back the clock. Who gives a shit, finally? You don’t scare me,ese! As james whale sings in “gods and monsters” “Grave where is thy victory? Death, where is thy sting a ling a ling?” hah.
Pretty good birthday.we played for this public dinner on a footbridge over a canal. there were lots of people from the local community eating on the bridge. we played as the sun set. Pretty good.
Will go back to Athens in about a week.
In the meantime, I remain ever yours, faithful unto the end, like an old dog sleeping at your feet by the fire, humping your leg until you hit me with a newspaper, I crap on the carpet and you must put me down at last.
Yours for all time
Blaine Leslie Reininger
Born July 10 1953 at 3 am in Pueblo, Colorado, U.S.A.
April 7, 2005
Hello my little chickadees. Here’s Blaine, back in Athens after our glorious return to Homeland America, Estados Unidos. If you ain’t aware already, Tuxedomoon went to San Francisco for the entire month of March, 2005. While
there we jammed furiously with an eye upon a new cd. This work will continue later, fiends.We played two shows in San Fran, one in Mexico City and one in Lost Angeles.
At that point, we upped stakes and flew to New York where we wowed ’em at the Knitting Factory and the Tribeca Grand Hotel. Of course, when we tell people that we played in the lobby of an enormous and luxe hotel where formerlyonly derelicts tread, they may think we have joined the Holiday Inn and cruise ship circuit. None of that.
Now, back in greece, the impressions fostered by this return are too many to process. In any case, we have a bunch more shows in Spain and Portugal. We even have one in Italy. Then we are finished, 14 April.
Suffice to say, I grew weary of the 8th grade principle’s office atmosphere of the current United States. Shuffling yet again through the checkpoints set up by the Sicherheitsamt of the Office of Homeland Security
(Heimatssicherheitamt), it struck me that we would all be better off if we dressed and acted as they treat us. As mental patients. Think about it, a bathrobe and slippers would be themost security-friendly uniform, no fumbling with shoes and belts andjackets, everything to hand for those anal probes for contraband. Also, had we all spent time in jail or the nuthouse, we would be handier with the plastic cutlery enforced throughout the secure zones of our airports. Who can deny that a little Thorazine would render the whole experience of air travel in modern America
just that little bit less stressful? I already noted that a way to smoke a cigarette undetected by closed circuit television taught to me by a former mental patient has proven most effective.