Any way you want it That's the way you need it Any way you want it

Last Weekend
Thursday.


Thursday night I took the train to San Francisco to see The Lovemakers at the Great American Music Hall. I was supposed to meet my friend Nina there at nine, but greatly underestimated the Bay Area Rapid Transit system and showed up wicked early. I chain smoked out front and read a book until she arrived. Some dude wanted fifty cents from me or he would “start blazing – we’re talking straight fireworks on the street”. Fair enough. The Lovermakers were pretty fun to watch. A hella fine dude and a hella fine chick dancing around on stage to some catchy, if not familiar, tunes. I have a feeling the guy in the back, hunched over the keyboard, might be the mastermind of that operation, but I’m almost always wrong about everything. Oh shit. The band before them was way awesome. They’re called Drunken Horse I believe. Check them out if you want to get your socks rocked off.


Friday.


Friday night I was planning on staying in and getting some much needed writing and bad television time in. Unfortunately, my friend Bennet (he’s what’s known in Alcoholics Anonymous circles as an ‘enabler’) showed up and dragged me out. Not much to tell about that night except I really wish I had just stayed in.

Grad School Party where two people had the same birthday as me.
Piano Bar where we hijacked a reserved table.
Frat party up in the Berkeley hills somewhere.

Two lame ass parties and $40 dollars poorer we move on to…

Saturday.

In the morning I drove out to the 707 with a friend and rocked the fuck out of some grunge music. The night we start playing shows you will all know it because everyone’s hair will grow two inches in two minutes. Mother fucking grunge.

That night I attended Morgan and Daisy’s “dress as your favorite 80’s rockstar” party in historic Cotati, California. Cotati looks like a big peace symbol when viewed from the air. This must have been a godsend to the mountains of hippies who flocked there in the late sixties. The exact source of the design for the city center remains a mystery, but most likely it was fashioned after the radiating star plan which is prevalent in the layout of many European cities, as well as Washington, D.C. and Detroit, Michigan.

Sunday.

I went record shopping in Berkeley with Caroline. Caroline HATES myspace. After she dropped me off at my studio I dove headfirst into the soul searching depression I like to call Sunday through Thursday. That’s when I freak out about going out too much and wasting too much time that could be spent writing or meditating or mountain climbing or whatever the fuck my thing is that week That’s where I am now. So if I haven’t returned anyone’s calls it’s because I need to be alone and try to get something constructive done before this road trip I’m taking on Thursday.


Labor Day

This Thursday I’m renting a car with some friends and high-tailing it for Portland. Road trip in the hizouse!!! My Portland Brethren - be ready to rock the house. I’m growing a mustache just for the trip (that is, I’m trying to grow one – not sure if I actually can. Either way it will be creepy).


A Play

The curtains open and we see two young ladies at an after party. A bar, sixty feet long, has been erected. Every variety of beverage is provided. A well-lit fireplace casts dancing shadows on the seventy-five men and fifteen women passed out cold around the girls. A feeling of melancholy floats down on our stars as the party has, clearly, reached its end.

Amy: The party was totally gay.

Judy: Um… can you, like, not use hate talk around me?

Amy: Hate talk?

Judy: Gay?

Amy: I think you may be confusing the word ‘Homosexual’ or the often derogatory ‘Fag’ for the word ‘Gay’. You want me to grab a dictionary?

Judy: I want you to shut up.

Amy: Get fucked.

The End.


A Poem

A woman
walking in the morning
with a Nalgene water bottle
has more purpose in
her little toe
than I’ve ever had
in my whole
life.


An excerpt from a nine year old diary grammar mistakes and all

“…that night we went to a Mushface show. Last time I was in L.A. it was when Davie and I toured with Punky Rockit and Hutch, but they weren’t too big and when they played they played small, illegal clubs in bad parts of town. Do-it-yourself kind if shows where punk rock veterans argue about the past just loud enough to awe the newer punks while you barter your way inside with a few cigarettes and of course that’s not really juice in your Snapple bottle. The Mushface show was a different story. I had no idea that they had a following, CDs, and a manager. The show was pretty fucking big. It was the cushy, glossy-photo side of the punk rock scene that I had never really experienced before because none of the local bands where I live are very big. But it wasn’t bad, just different. It seemed like there was this wild energy in the air. Maybe I was just excited about meeting so many new people and being in a new environment but really I think it was being in the middle of such a big city. I mean, all around me things were going on… Movies being filmed, young struggling actors and actresses trying to make their dreams come true, gang warfare, and tons and tons of people doing tons and tons of everything. It was all happening around me and I could just feel it. I made it my goal for the evening to meet every single person at the show… I didn’t succeed, but I did get engaged to this one girl who gave me a loll-i-pop ring. We smoked and planned out our honeymoon. Does she remember me? Anyway it was a great show and afterward I went to some party which was cool too, but by the time Chris and I got to his house I was completely exhausted. It had been a long 24 hours. The whole trip had been a rollercoaster. Long, fun days that always ended with Chris and I smoking and talking on his back porch. The next night I went to a crazy beach party in Malibu. It was perfect. Me and this girl sat watching UFOs and drinkink beer all night… Midnight kissing in a drunken bliss. The next morning I found out that the whole time we were making out Chris and some other people were holding off her angry boy-...”

Just in case i get hit by a bus or something...

I, the undersigned, Joshua Jon Doan make my last Will and Testament as follows:

REVOCATION OF PREVIOUS WILLS
I hereby expressly revoke all other wills, codicils and legacies predating the present Will. Without prejudice to the foregoing, all other wills.

FUNERAL AND BURIAL
For the most part I dont give a shit what you do with my body because Ill be dead. Do what you want. Have a blast. If one of my family or friends want to have a funeral for me, thats fine. One thing though: Absolutely no Christian shit. Snakes can't talk and that's the end of it. I dont want friends or family putting a bunch of religious nonsense on me when I cant defend myself. Dont even mention a higher power. In fact, if youre a religious person you cant believe that I went to your heaven or that Im energy now or that Ive been reincarnated. You have to believe that Im just dead.

Update
I would like to be burried in Becky's 'detroit: where the weak are killed and eaten' tee shirt.

LEGACIES
I leave all my assets and movables at the time of my death or thereafter descend to my estate, to Dangerous David Wiseman except for the following:

My cowboy belt which I leave to Joe Morato at his request.

All my books go to my sister, Stephanie Rose Doan. I know it'll be a bitch to mail all that stuff out to wherever she lives, but get it done.

David can dole out the rest of my belongings as he sees fit. Also, Christian has to help him move stuff with his truck if he needs it.

Upate - Now fools are demanding to be included so here are a few amendments.

Megan - you get my red fondue pot, but you have to promise to have a fondue party with all of my friends 3 weeks after Im dead.

Christian - Anything i've ever written in paper or on my computer.

Bennett - At your request you get my Nintendo Game Cube.

Michelle - My dollar store red cups

Becky - To you i leave a cold glass of 'Shut the hell up!'

JL - You get any cats under the age of one year that i may have at the time of my death. You do not get my guitar.

NOTIFYING FAMILY
Finding my family to tell them what happened may be tricky. I dont have my Father or Mothers phone numbers. I only speak to them through instant messages once in a while. The best thing to do would be to try and figure out my AIM password and reach them that way. I'm pretty sure David knows the password.

Signed at Berkeley, California this August 17th 2005

Joshua Jon Doan