Since Pulp Fiction Is On

You know what I like about Quentin Tarantino?

It's that he doesn't try to hide the fact that his movies are movies. Every time I see a driving scene in one of his movies, especially Pulp Fiction, I love to see not only a fake backround, but a black and white fake background. Plus, the beginning music shifts from freaking Pipeline to Jungle Boogie once a black guy shows up. And, he includes lines like, "When you pulled in here, did you see a sign that said 'Dead Nigger Storage' in the driveway?." Now I don't give a shit usually when the N-word appears in movies or song (worst word ever, by the way, besides "boy"), but when a skinny white dude says it to a black guy - provocative at least. Quite ballsy, even for gen-exed desensitized little ol' me.


Yeah, I guess there's that whole thing that he's totally immersed and educated in his craft. Encyclopedic knowledge of history of film, etc. As a jazz musician, I dig the importance of that.

Well, that's twice in one night. That's what happens when Ryan doesn't work Saturday night, has cramming to do, drinks three cups of coffee, then beer, and three glasses of bourbon. Here's to life. If you don't love it, what's the fucking point?

Booze and Music. What Else?

OK, got some business to attend to first:

Beer one:




















I was told it's like Newcastle. That is correct. So if you like Newcastle, or you're in college, try it.
It's like a Hooters girl: cute, but once the novelty wears off, you don't get much back from it. (Although sex with a Hooters girl is probably better than with this bottle.)

Beer two: I was looking for Diablo, or something like that that I had at Kevin's which was good. I settled for Lucifer, 'cause you know, the whole devil thing.





















Good. A little light, kind of refreshing, got me buzzed.

Then moved on to Tripel Karmeliet.





















This one's better. More complex. Worth a go. Lucifer, whatever. This one, worth it. The danger with these beers - and any that come in a bottle with a cork - is that they're bound to be compared with Chimay. And the sad fact is, Chimay will always win. So if you're debating on where to put those eight bucks, don't hesitate, loiter, or vascillate, buy Chimay (Blue).

I've also discovered that I like Bloody Marys. It's a process, but that's ok. I need them with everything here.






That's right, six ingredients: Vodka (Vox in this case (c'est magnifique)), Mr. T's Bold n' Spicy Mix, Chalula (not Tobasco), Worcestershire Sauce (not A-1), Olives (not celery), and that thing that looks like a branch is a root: freshly ground horseradish, and plenty of it. This drink is sure to please anyone that wants to drink a steak or is hungover.









On to tomorrow's gigs: PJ's Abbey 11-2pm with Mark Massey. Fun and informative. Then straight to Beverly Hills to be a Minstrel Cycle (that pun is courtesy Kevin Lee). I've been cramming 15 Christmas tunes into my noggin, trying to be a responsible bassist. Feels good to practice, but 15 are a lot for anyone, especially me. Usually it takes me a week for a tune, and then I have to play it every week for 3 months. We'll see how it goes. No reading, walking up and down Rodeo Dr. I'll try to take pictures of the rich people: "Get out, Richers!" "Beat it Cash-Chuckers!"

Until next time, Ho Ho Ho.

Editing Your Profile Is Like My...

Hard, that is.

Toys, No Equivocation

Bored. Bathroom's looking sweet. Drank some Chimay and Laphroaig. Feeling pretty good about myself.

Saturday hung out with Matt Andrade and Kevin: drank a lot of Chimay, Duvel, and Demonic/Diabolique/some freaking good beer I can't remember the name of. Some freaking good beer of which I can't remember the name. And for those that care: Chimay still wins.

Got a new digital camera at retail because fifty bucks ain't worth a day of my time, bitches. Translation: I bought it two days after it was on sale Black Friday for two bills because I don't wait in line that long for anything not bass related

(see comment re:Wii, www.jefflong.blogspot.com).

Want to see some pics? Mee too:

Bathroom. Tiles and paint. Should be pretty effing good.

Wasabi. Photo is slightly doctored because the last thing you want is realism.

How is it doctored, you ask? She's smiling. Duh!

Me, playing Lionel Richie (thanks, Kevin).

Also, I can take fancy artsy fartsy (but not really, Kevin) pictures, like this:

See how the cup is the only colored thing in there? That's no post-editing, people! That's how the photo was taken. Wow, is right.

And that's all she wrote. This week: Long Beach Christmas gigs: 6 of 'em, plus the Lighthouse, and PJ's Abbey. Nice, er, noice.

Pictures for You to Masturbate to (Finally!)

What've I been up to, you ask? This is my bathroom. Actually, was my bathroom.
This is my shower.Plumbing.

Extra bedroom.

My feet on my sweet new linoleum floor, circa 19let's-take-shrooms-and-trip.

Talking about tripping: the addition again. (The curves are the camera, I don't live in Toontown)

Shower pan, Jerry's (my future dad-in-law) FIRST EVER! Can't wait to have to kick the water down the drain!

We're all a little tuckered out. We'll get some rest soon, and hopefully have some folks over to show off our addition and Jess' and my bathroom. Sorry friends, your bathroom still sucks!

And that's been my life for the last two months. Good times. In other news, I "interviewed" for Anaheim School District today. The guy took one look at me, then at my resumé, which read "LAUSD" and made his decision (yes). So now I can teach closer for less money, but run into Lee Wright now and then! So today I celebrated like the little girl I am and bought Dickies and Pumas and patio chairs and Chimay and Mississippi Mud. I'll report back.

With a Little Help from My Friends

I've decided to learn the damn piano. Know why? 'Cause I want to. I can play chords and a melody now pretty badly, but I want to be able to actually play competently in couple of years. So the Professor is going to help me out. Scales again. And what he calls the Rosetta Stone. This will test my patience, but what the hell, it'll help my bass playing, so it's worth it.

Also, my friend and good drummer Scott convinced me that a bass player of my ability should not have to substitute teach to make ends meet. So, he's probably right. My fault. I'm lazy, as I've said before, and what you should do to work is make the phone ring. Dave Ashkenazy is a shuffling mo-f0. Calling people, hitting jams, staying on the scene. You know what I do? I sit and wait for the phone to ring. Bad Ryan. Get off your lazy white ass and spread the word that you exist. So I will, probably next Tuesday. I hate jam sessions, but it's what you gotta do sometimes. Anyone interested in joining me (Jeff), let me know.

I'm a bit eviscerated at the moment. I can't wait to slow down a little. Dancing With the Stars is on, and I'm glad I'm missing it. My in-laws never miss it. They think Mario will win. I think it's better than watching Wheel of Fortune.

By the way, the word of the day is gauche, pronounced GOHSH. It means awkward, clumsy, socially, that is. I have been feeling quite gauche lately, I just have very little creativity in the old noodle. I better get some back: Parkers' tommorow with Massey and Cunningham. Gotta keep up, gotta get good grades. The future's so bright... anyone?

Random, and Not Interesting, Even to Me

New copper plumbing today (and yesterday). Working under the house is difficult, especially if you're my dad doing it all. We all be terd, but everyone should be in high spirits because Arsenal are beating the poo out of Liverpool. Well, they're up 2-0 anyway. Thinking about what to eat at PJ's Abbey today. Jazz gig with Massey for brunch. And I get out of nasty pipe work. Mario Mario I am not, but I did fix the refrigerator! Our ice dispenser officially works (for now).

I'm... make that 3-0!

I'm sitting here wanting to type something interesting, but my mind cannot turn, doesn't unstick, and just won't, uh...

Drop Your Pants!

Another day at the mill. Substituted again, this time at the old stamping grounds. Easy day, little 6th grade shits that were pretty cool. This gig drop-off really sucks, I hate subbing all the time. I mean, 3 days a week of actual work really gets to you.

Here's a rant: my fiance (her birthday is tomorrow) tells me, "Do whatever you got to do, but take me out for my birthday." I get it, in-laws, remodel, no "us" time. Then today she leaves me a message, "Why don't you spend all your money and take me to Orange Hill?" Maybe she doesn't know I already bought her a damn smokin' gift, maybe she's half-joking, maybe she's being a royal pain in my ass. Maybe I'll take her out to cheap pho 'cause I like it, then park the truck in back of a Home Depot and... well, my Dad might read this so I better not go into details. And yes, of course this is all talk. I'll be nice. We'll have a good time. I'll try to keep it in my pants (for a little while). We're not going to Orange Hill, though.

In other news, that fantastic gig I played last week with Mark Massey turned into another. How 'bout that? God bless this life. When things look grim, magic happens.

Strikes and gutters, hills and valleys. The Dude abides.

Jones and Bryant = Good Eats

As hoped, the house is coming along nicely. I've noticed a bit of a trend, though. As each project nears completion, the overall mood of the house improves... until something breaks, then we bought a piece of shit. Take this last week, Friday was okay, Saturday went okay, Saturday night our washing machine broke and flooded the garage (no gear was harmed, thank Jeesus!). Saturday night we had a piece of shit house, everyone was frustrated. Sunday, my pops came over to tape and mud the drywall that was installed Saturday, and the room finally looked like it was going to be damn close to done. Sunday night, we had what will become a really cute house again.

It's a roller coaster of emotions over here at the Rost house (!) but worth it for me. As for Jess' dad... he'll probably not want to have anything to do with Southern California after this.

In other news, I played a fantastic gig with Mark Massey on Saturday. Duet at a restaurant with a great vibe, and people wound up listening and complimenting and tipping! That rarely happens in a restaurant. And, AND! I had my very first Kobe burger. Let me tell you boys and girls, the difference is like smelling a rose and smelling vomit. I mean, it might have even been worth the $16 price tag (which we didn't have to pay).

Well, that about does her. Wraps the whole thing up. I was sorry to see Donnie go, but at least there's comfort in knowing there's a little Lebowski on the way. I guess that's how the whole human comedy keeps perpetuating itself...

Is That Me?

Just had the sweetest sub gig ever. Gardena High, AP English, periods 3,4, and 5 only, and the teacher was on campus. And he just wanted me to show a movie! School is not done yet, but I am. I'll try to sneak out a little early, maybe give the filipina lady in the office a little wink and a pat on the tushy to seal the deal.

The house is going well (I think). I haven't been so damn exhausted in years, but Pops came over last weekend and he and Jess' dad framed a room, installed windows and doors and sheeted, tarred, and sided the mofo... remember, all in two days!

I did go somewhere I had never been before: the public dump. I had several mounds of shit in my front and back yards that needed removal. Here's an abbreviated list of things I consider shit from my yard:

Suspended ceiling, carpet that smells like dog piss, padding that smells like dog piss, carpet with dog hair all over it, goddamn tree stump that took me 2 hours to dig up, plastic/aluminum windows that look like they were bought at a flea market in Calcutta, iron gate, cement chunks, etc.

So I rented a small U-Haul trailer for 10 bucks and with my dad's pickup, loaded up and hauled two half-ton loads of rubbish to the dump in Stanton (where else?) in which there were several neet things. Piles of garbage. An enormous monstrosity of a bulldozer (wheels as tall as I). And a very interesting smell. Not just manure, not just dumpster, but both in there. After I left, I had spent 60 clams to throw stuff away. Compared to $95 to rent a dumpster for a day, or $380 for a roll-off, I'd say it was a good buy.

Well, it's time to see if they'll let me go.

Space Invaders

My future in-laws have arrived. For all those reading this who aren't Kevin and Jeff, my fiance's parents are from MinneCanada and are great human beings. So in their altruism they decided to drive out and live with us (!) for about 2 months (!!), and help remodel/redecorate the new digs.

Watching Jess' dad is like looking at a paint can shaker machine thing: you can't focus on it, all you know is that it's moving. So it's a bit hard to keep up, but, it is now day 4 and we have an entire bedroom that has no carpet/padding, no ceiling, just studs and insulation. We also have a garage full of sinks and toilets and sheetrock and wood and on and on.

So here's the bad news: I want to learn how to do all this shit, and I won't because Jess' dad will do it himself.

Here's the good news, we'll have a pretty sweet little hut when they're done, and Jess' dad will do it himself.

Up on the agenda: two bathrooms completely replumbed and remodeled, aforementioned room re-walled, windowed, ceilinged, etc. I wish I had a decent digital camera. I'll see what I can do.

Overall, I think this will be quite an amazing couple months, but perhaps I should wait a few weeks to make that decision.

Talk About A Set Of Bookends

Well, this week has certainly been "eventful" for me. Monday was my big appearance on the Ellen Degeneres Show, which - if you saw it - allows me about 14 minutes and 57 seconds of fame left.

Tonight, I'm subbing for my good friend Luther Hughes, and playing behind the one and only, John Davidson. If you're asking yourself "who the hell is John Davidson," then you obviously never watched game shows in the 80's. Not stupid shows like Joker's Wild, good shows like $100,000 pyramid, and Hollywood Sqares, and a little show called That's Incredible!

Mr. Davidson has always sung some, and acted, and did Broadway, and tonight I'll have the pleasure of playing bass for him.

How's the music? Check out www.johndavidson.com to find out. I like it, but I like everything.

Man oh man, I don't know, girls and boys, if things keep on like this, I might be playing for the Grammys in no time!

In all honesty, it'll be very exciting to meet someone who has been in the business for so long, and who I always watched and liked as a kid. Who would've thunk it? I love my job!

Dangers of Owning a House

Buying a house has such promising aspects. Consider:

a) more space to walk around in;
b) a place for a barbecue, so I can have fatty burgers and dogs anytime I want;
c) attached garage to pull in, get out, deal with gear later;
d) more rooms to give to my drunk-off-ass friends.

There are however, several pitfalls, a couple quid pro quos, if you will.

a) it takes longer to find the cats;
b) a barrage of work to do, such as, pull up carpet, scrape ceilings, gut/remodel/replumb bathrooms;
c) costs more;

and, most significantly, due to "c"
d) must drink cheap beer.

It's really quite sad. No Chimay, no Czechvar, not even a Heineken. Only MGD. That's it. Not that I'm bashing MGD, it is quite, uh, cold. And bubbly! And loyal. It's always been there when I needed it, it never gets all uppity and costs a lot, and dammit, sometimes I just want to drink six gallons of swill and play army man in my neighbors' yards at 3:30 in the morning.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I want a kegerator. In fact, here's my mission statement:

I half-promise, I semi-swear, I quasi-vow almost never, maybe only once in while, to put a keg of anything less than Stella, or Urquell, or some other good beer into my Precious.

And I'm also trying to say, "Thank you, MGD. Thank you for being the still-malleable ex-girlfriend that you can call up to get laid when the chips are down. Sure you have to deal with struggling to get her top off, letting what she has to offer just slip down with no real concentration or care, and of course, no head; but hey, what's the alternative? I'll be good and goddamned if I'm going to drink Smirnoff Ice."

A Serious Week

After a little over a week, I'm finally back into webby webby thing, and thought I'd update, just for the hell of it. Besides, the events of late have been many, and worth telling all, er, both of you.

Firstly, my fianc-eh and I moved out of my beloved LBC (dat's Long Beach, yea-ah) and into my childhood city of Garden Grove. It sucks for two reasons: a) now I have to visit Long Beach; and b) Garden Grove is a Pepsi city, and I hate Pepsi. Coke is better, let's move on.

This move does have its upside, though, which is: a house. That's right, a three mf'ing bedroom, attached garage, front and back yard havin' actual OC house. It is a fixer-upper though, that's the catch. Which leads me to the move itself:

Day 1: move 5 truckloads and a carload of boxes of little shit Jessica and I have accumulated over 4 years of one bedroom apt living. Then, gig. Exhaustion set in during the second set, and I fought back (unsuccessfully) several gaping yawns while playing. Nothing says "I'm totally into this music" like, aaaaaawwwwwwwwwmmmmmm.

Day 2: Early church gig, borrow a big fat probably-should've-had-an-A-class-license-to-drive truck from a good friend and great drummer, John, whom I call Lecc (LAYCH). Roll with Pops and Kevin (sidebar) to LBC, grab the furniture, get to LBC, eat Los Cotija's, start scraping ceilings.

Day 3: finish the ceiling scrapey. For those who are confused, if you have ever seen "popcorn" acoustic ceiling, wall to wall to floor to wall to ceiling plastic, some warm water, and a scraper will take that shit right off. Which is what I did Day 3. Day 2 is big ups to Pops for getting me started, and my niz Matt for doing a gang of work with me, even though his incessant cheery whistling almost drove me batty.

Day 4: move furniture into the main part of the house, get furniture delivered, rip up carpet to reveal sweet ass hard wood floors, etc.

Then it gets interesting because it turns musical:

The last couple of weeks I've been helping out the bassist-less CSUFullerton big band. Several rehearsals, couple of performances, normal college big band fare. Thanks to Luther (sidebar) for referring me. Great music, mostly Count Basie, whom I was not super deep into (you know what I mean), but now I want to get ten or so albums. Anyway, played the Brea jazz festival, on-campus concert, and the Count Basie Jazz Festival (officially, One O'Clock Jump) at a hotel by LAX. This was a treat because I'm a big Ellington fan, and one of his great trumpet players was there: Clark Terry. Clark's performance showed his health problems and way up there age, but who cares? it's Clark Terry. Also, one of the great arrangers in jazz history was present, Mr. Frank Foster. We played one of his tunes, pretty shabbily, but I met him in the hall and he was very complimentary about the whole group and the other music we played - Kansas City Suite, if you care. As a sidenote, I wish I had a camera to take a picture of Frank and Clark in the hallway, two really old feelble black guys whispering to each other as they passed each other in their wheelchairs, facing different directions like the lovetoilet from SNL.

And finally, the best for last. Kevin and I have a running belief system which is that there are several comedians that are the least funny people in the world and yet seem to get a lot of work, kinda like the asshole that gets chicks. They are, in no particular order:

Ellen Degeneres
Wanda Sykes
Robert Townsend (except the first half of his appearance on the Rodney Dangerfield Show in the early 90's)
Bernie Mac (except maybe in Ocean's 11, or was that Cedric the Entertainer? or Mr. T? or Denzel Washington? or Morgan Freeman? I'm going to Hell.)
Rosie O'Donnell
also included should be Chris Kattan and Jimmy Fallon, for obvious reasons.

Well, the CSUF Band was invited (with me) to perform on a daytime talk show hosted by none other than Ellen Degeneres. I laughed, and of course said yes.
We did this show earlier today which was something like, get picked up by a charter bus at 11am, drive to Burbank, get in the studio, set up, run the arrangement of New York, New York none of us had played ever before, go to the green room, go back, green room, rehearsal for 20 minutes, green room for an hour, play twice (about a minute of playing), green room, one more time through the tune, green room, pack up, go home.
There were two really funny moments though, which is good for Ellen. One, when a hundred and fifty middle-aged white women were dancing to "OPP" by Naughty By Nature, and when I found out that one of the guests was, yep, Wanda Sykes. It was a black hole of funny.

To summate (I don't know, Kevin) the Hollywood experience: did I see any celebs? yes, on a monitor in the green room mostly, I did see Ellen a few feet away. She seemed nice, but busy, and looked exactly the same as on TV. Did I feel like a star? They gave us sandwiches and a T shirt. Did I get make up? Hell yes, bitches! I was a powdery, unshiny bass player. Was it worth it? I'll let you know tomorrow after I see the show at 3pm on NBC, but yeah probably.

So there's my busy week as quickly as possible. Not the eloquent verbiage I would prefer to provide, but I'm beat. Time for more beer and DirecTV.

Tonight only!

The Ryan Rost Trio (that's the one: RR3) will be performing ONE NIGHT ONLY at the world famous Parkers' Lighthouse in Long Beach.

The group features the damn tasty Tom Cunningham on Trumpet. Like Miles? Enjoy Nat Adderley? Well, look no further, here they is!

Also joining us: the fan-fucking-tastic Barry Zweig on Guitar with a capital "G." Like energy? Enjoy musical genius? Do yourself a favor and stop in.

"But, what time," you ask? Good question! 6 - 9pm, Tonight, Wednesday, September 27.

And I would be remiss if I didn't say, $5 top shelf martinis while we play!

Dig, www.parkerslighthouse.com

Polytone still for sale!

If you happen to be interested in this little gem of an amp, read my previous post, BUT, and that's a big ass but folks, edit $550 to read:


$350!

That's right, let it sink in, then comment if interested.

What? A Polytone for Sale?

That's right, kids. Any guitarists out there looking for that warm jazz tone? Any bassists sick of lugging a 4x10 around? Well this is the place for you. Ryan (that's me) is selling gear! It's a rare thing indeed for him to part with any piece of gear working or not, and a vintage gem like this? what's become of him?

Here's the deal:

Polytone MiniBrute amp. Circa 1980's. Looks great, sounds better (those who have read this far probably already know about the Polytone sound). Single 12" combo amp that I recently had repaired strictly to Polytone's specs.

It sounds the same, only now it's more reliable.

And it's only... $550! Can you ask for a better deal? Yes! If you buy now, I'll throw in an authentic Polytone MiniBrute gig bag, complete with black duct tape on the corners, absolutely FREE!

Anybody actually interested can post a comment on this blog.

Bass For Sale

Anyone interested in a fretless Fender Jazz Bass? For sale on Ebay! Item number 7393776297. "It's a deal, it's a steal, in fact, fuck it, I might just keep it meself!"