Newspaper Interview

This post is from an Email interview with a newspaper.

1. It's not everyday an EP is released with the title "Gospel Hymns for Agnostics and Atheists." Care to elaborate on the title?

Many of my friends and I love old time Christian gospel music because we love the music, even though many of them are Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, agnostic, etc. As a musician I try to mix ideas from different genres with modern rock in order to create new musical ideas and sounds. Without realizing it I had been drawing ideas from early 20th century gospel music and decided it would be nice to create a modern type of spiritual music that does not promote any religion or sect, but reaches for a more universal spiritual message.

The lyrical concept was to have blues based verses that speak of life's day to day struggles, then have the chorus respond with a spiritual answer. It is a technique common in old folk gospel and can be heard in Bob Marley's music as well.



2. What message do you hope to give to listeners?

Well on the EP, I was just trying to express my own feelings of frustration with the world we live in, (whether personally or politically) yet still reach for a way of looking at it that was not all negative.

The lyrics tend to mix phrases from gospel music with the kind of contradictory phrases one hears in Taoism or Zen Buddhism, such as "Let the headlines feed the hungry, let the sinless pray for redemption."

I think a common theme on the CD is a search for meaning for answers that ultimately can't be found with intellectual reasoning. Hence lyrics like, "Destiny is a crossword puzzle written on a chain link fence, Compassion is a parable spoken by a tongueless monk." Throughout the undercurrent is the dynamic of a never ending search for truth, against the desire to surrender reason to some level of faith, (in whatever form that takes)


So It Is was written many years ago when I was in college and hanging out with some Dead Head folks. The 3rd verse is very much about those kids. The rest of the song is inspired by South African township music and I tried to speak in those type of simple stories that mix a mundane story with a larger spiritual feeling.

Happy Endings is inspired by the tiny rural steel mill town I grew up in and my relationship to it. It's a place with little hope and lots of unemployment and drug and alcohol problems.

3. How do you feel about censorship in music and in the media in general?

When it comes to political and especially religious issues, things have gotten a lot worse in recent years. In the case of our CD it seems it's the word "Atheist" that is freaking people out. I thought of the title as a bit of a punk joke.

There was once a belief in rock and roll, and youth culture in general, that all authority and all values should be questioned, (So each person might think for themselves as individuals) and there was a general belief that conformity is something to be avoided. Rock was once about creative and personal freedom. These ideas are what made 1960's rock and early punk rock so exciting. These days college students seem to be very conformist. Radio stations are obsessed with "punk" rock but they don't have a clue what it was all about. They think it is a musical formula or a fashion trend.

For an artist you have to have access to the media or you can't get your message out to the public. Most media is controlled by large corporations, and music only gets played on commercial radio if a corporation pays of the stations. Usually about $10,000 per station to play a song.

There was a time when college radio really embraced the original rebellious free spirit of rock and roll, but now it seems to be pretty controlled by the corporations as well, or just reflects the conformist mindset of the students.

As for censorship I simply believe freedom of expression is one of the most important ideas that our country was founded on. Those that want to censorship free speech can wave the flag all they want, but their actions are still anti-American.

4. I read on your website that a number of radio stations have banned your music. What are you feelings on that? have they changed since then?

No. They haven't changed. As artists we just want people to hear our music and hopefully like it. What is frustrating is that I don't think they are really listening to the music or the lyrics. The lyrics present a pretty positive message, but people come at it with these prejudices and twist the lyrics in their heads and think we are satan worshippers or something.

What is strange to me is that most students in college radio and college newspapers don't seem to think censorship of music is an important issue.

What organizations do you support?

I have had a long working history with Amnesty International.

A big issue for me is religious intolerance, and it relates to why the CD is being banned. I spent the months after 9/11 working at ground zero and have a strong sense of what religious hate can lead to.

On other hand I grew up in a small town where if you had the wrong haircut the Christians said you were a Satan Worshipper. In recent years we have seen a wave of religious fundamentalism in America. There are many people who don't believe in the separation of church and state and want to use political institutions to force religious beliefs in others. Its the same philosophy the Taliban and Al Queda have.

In America we are very conscious of racism, sexism, etc, but there is little thought to Religious Intolerance. If a person days "If you don't follow my religion you are going to hell or you are a Satan Worshipper, or your are evil" that is very hateful, and such attitudes are very prevalent in middle America, and even in the media. I really believe it is an issue that needs to be discussed so we might learn to have respect and acceptance of each other's belief systems.

Because of what we express in The Imperial orgy, every day I get hate mail, often people threatening my life. All because they disagree with my ideas and Philip. This is America in 2006, and yet freedom of speech brings death threats to Rock bands?

5. Explain the first two tracks on the EP. What do they mean?

I chose the title for The Amazing Tenacity of Job & His Brethren because Job was given many trials and and yet held on to his values. The song is about surviving the trials of life in the modern world. Whether those trials are personal relationship (verses 1-3), or media overload (verse 4), or working degrading jobs for sustenance in a commercialized world (verse 5).

With the song "In Praise Of Shadows," the first verse was written many years ago but I could never come up with another verse or chorus. Then I was driving through the cornfields in Texas the day after 9/11 and the 2nd verse just poured out, and I think captured my mixed feelings about the state of the nation in that moment.

The chorus returns to the theme of spiritual surrender. "rest your head, what is, it shall be."

6. On the track "So it is," the song starts off with a singing part. What are you saying in the beginning, the lyrics don't say. And it repeats a couple times in the song.


That refrain is a bunch of African words arranged nonsensically. Sort of like the Beatles song, "Michelle My Belle," does with french lyrics. I think one phrase of the African words means, "I don't have money for the rent." I think of it as joyful Dada, or like a children rhyme.

7. When I read the lyrics to "Happy Endings," I felt different things. What are you trying to say in that song?

The first half of the verses tell stories of people who are living day by day without any larger dreams as they do in my hometown. The second half of the verse expresses my feelings of having left my hometown in search of something that I don't know quite what it is.

The third verse tells of a woman I let behind when I left.

The chorus "The are our happy endings, it's the best we can do," refers to the idea that ultimately we must find peace within whatever circumstances life hands us.

8. I see the band goes by Caesar Pink and The Imperial Orgy. How did they two groups get together?

It's really always been one group. Think "Sly & The Family Stone," or "Prince & The Revolution." The Imperial Orgy is also a larger community of artists and activists that formed around the group. Perhaps like the relationship of the Dead Heads to the Grateful Dead.

9. Where are you all originally from and how long have you been together?

I am from a small town called Lewistown, PA and the band formed at the Penn State University about ten year ago.

10. What are your musical influences?

This is most important to our sound, (and the EP only reflects a small sliver of our sound) but I try to draw influences from a wide variety of musical styles. I love great artists from any genre If you only listen to one style of music then the music you create will sound very generic, like most of the music you hear these days. Some artists I love are:

The Clash, James Brown, Talking Heads, David Bowie, Gang Of Four, Jimi Hendrix, King Sunny Ade, Fela Kuti, PJ Harvey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Beck, Prince, Elvis Costello, Hank Williams SR, The Staple Singers, Mile Davis, Johnny Cash, Sonny Rollins, Parliment Funkadelic, The Residents, Sex Pistols, Roxy Music, Led Zeppelin, Beatles, Stones, Bob Marley, I could go one and on

11. Any tour plans in support of the EP?

Only in our region. We don't have money to tour and when we perform a lot of people are involved. It's very expensive.

12. Will there be a full length in the future?

Yes, the EP was a radio release and in the fall there will be a full length CD titled Mickey Mouse World and the 4 songs from the EP will be included.

13. Any misconceptions about the band pertaining to your lyrics, image and message?

Always, I think people look at the surface and if they are closeminded tend to react hysterically before they listen to what we are really about. To enjoy the Imperial Orgy you have to be both open to new musical sounds, and to considering new social and political ideas. If someone limits themselves to only listening to one kind of music, they won't like us, if people aren't able to think about ideas that are outside the straight mainstream, the won't like us.

14. Last words?

Thanks we really appreciate it!

The End Of Nations?

The age of nations is coming to an end. As evidence we might take note than when Chinese president Hu came to the U.S, his first stop was not with president Bush, but with Bill Gates.
Each passing day multi-national corporation gain more power in the world, and increasingly national governments are falling into second place, with religious institutions assuming a distant third.

As anthropologist Joseph Campbell pointed out many years ago, when we look at the history of city architecture we can see the history power. In early cities the religious temples were the tallest buildings in every city, then in later times the government buildings were the tallest, now it is the financial institutions that have the tallest buildings in all major cities.

This trend has been apparent to anyone who was looking for the last 50 years, and the struggle for power between governments and corporations dates back as far as the founding of the United States, whose first settlers were in fact a corporation.

Now days, thanks to new technologies that make globalization possible, the national governments and their associated borders are becoming even more meaningless. And this will only accelerate in the coming years.

I do not mean to suggest that government will cease to exist, only that their power and important will be increasingly diminished.

China itself is attempting to reap the benefits of globalization while still maintaining its totalitarian control. But it’s a fool’s quest. They can use torture, they can jail those (with the help of Google and Yahoo) who search words such as Tiananmen Square or Fulan Gong, but the cat is out of the bag. The free flow of information and ideas cannot be stopped unless they close themselves off like North Korea, and that would bring a sudden halt to their booming economic growth.

I believe the United States has the most to lose from Globalization, because we are the ones who benefit most from having the good future to be born into this nation. As the playing field levels, and we must all compete for jobs with billions of Chinese and Indians, the standard of living for most U.S. citizens will likely deteriorate. It appears inevitable. The corporations benefit form access to cheap labor, so don’t expect globalization to stop.

The question then arises; why to we cling to our National identity as Americans? Would I really rather see someone on Ohio or Oklahoma have a job instead of an Indian peasant who might live in extreme poverty? They are all humans? For the believers in religious faiths they are all God’s children. Perhaps the time has come for American to sacrifice for greater good of humanity?

The Coptic Gospels

Most major religions have two bodies of works that guide their teachings. The first consists of simple parables and mythological stories. These are primarily intended to control the populace and keep the sheep in their pen.

The second type of religious treatise are the metaphysical and mystical works that tend to focus be a more a philosophical search for truth. Usually attempting to understand the nature of reality and the meaning of existence. Often these works are more concerned with personal enlightenment instead of rewards for obedient behavior as in the former category of works.

It seems pretty clear that the first of these types of works are aimed at a less educated population and usually carry the unspoken message “There is no need for you to think to hard, just do what you are told and everything will be fine.” Hence the Christian dictum to “believe as children.”

The second type of works tend to place more responsibility on the individual, both for make moral judgments, and through finding salvation through personal enlightenment.

While most major religions have books that teach the latter more metaphysical and mystical teachings, it always struck me as odd that Christianity did not have such works. I have often hear rumors that such books exist, and that there are another more esoteric set of Christ’s teachings, but I have never seen any proof that these exist. The rumor was that the Catholic Church had these writings, but was suppressing them. I was always skeptical about all of this because it seemed hard to imagine that of they existed they wouldn’t have leaked out and become available commercially. But with the Catholic Church, who knows.

Recently this mystery was made clear to me when I learned that there is a body of Christian mystical works that date back to the writing of the original gospels, and which was suppressed by church leaders as early as 180 AD.

It turns out that there was as many as 30 gospels of Christ, including the gospel of Mary Magdalene. At least some of these have survived and are of a more metaphysical nature. Early church leaders, who were struggling with the social/political and marketing challenge of turning an obscure cult into a major religion, chose the four gospels we all know for the New Testament, and condemned the other gospels as heretical.

The four gospels chosen were those that focused on guiding the behavior of the followers and on the magic of Christ rising from the dead. The condemned gospels focused more on personal enlightenment and therefore left little need for church leaders and an organized religion.

Referred to as the Coptic Gospels, I don’t these gospels are really much of a secret, although I heard the name, I was not aware of what they really were, and it seems most followers of the Christian faith are not aware of their content.

Opening from Apology July 8, 1994

July 8, 1994

Zero. It is down to this. God forbid one can exist in the minus. Zero is nothing enough. I am living in a rundown Mercury Topaz in a small town outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I am a stranger here and all I view is strange to me. I came here to be a scab worker during a factory strike at a company that makes construction machinery.

Living in a car makes you feel degraded to the level of an animal. No shower. No way to store or prepare food. Even brushing your teeth or finding a bathroom is a major task. Every day I ask myself, 'how did I come to this?'

not long ago I had a long term relationship with a beautiful woman, a home, a rental property, a fifty percent share in a small business, and was well on the way to a college degree. Now all that is gone. The cruel course of fate took the net of material security I had so laboriously created and revealed it to be a crepe paper illusion.

a few years ago at this time I was struggling to find money to eat. I vowed I would escape poverty forever. I worked, conned, connived, committed felonies to climb my way into the middle class. But once again I am reduced to the life of a peasant. Worse than this. The life of a vagabond.

The situation is exacerbated by the gnawing irony that for the first time all my hopes and dreams are a realistic possibility. Yet they lay right outside my grasp and I am unable to even enter the arena wherein I can begin the struggle to make those dreams a reality. And the truth be known it is not really money and wealth which I truly seek. Money is only a means to an end, and even then, what I desire cannot be bought.

Despite my circumstances, I feel clear sighted. The chaos of my life suddenly makes sense. I see that it was also ten years ago that I began a journey. A journey set sail with a momentary flash of light within my mind, and which is ending only now after a Homeric cycle of creation and destruction. I have nearly come full circle. Only time will tell whether this journey's end will bring a complete end to hope, or a beginning to the life I have always felt would start on some distant tomorrow.

From the beginning I already had a sense of what life had in store for me and what was existent within myself. Although unrealized, I already carried an understanding of the impenetrability of life's underlying mysteries, the goal of my desires, and that my destiny offered the extraordinary.

At the same time I also carried a sickness. An all-pervading bitterness for an evolution's worth of unfulfilled human potential. A bitterness for the unfulfilled potential in my own life which only the most naively idealistic and childlike mind could formulate.

Immediately I held the view that all of life was a game. Yet I played that game more seriously than any of those around me. The doctrine of inaction was apparent to me from the first breath. Yet I acted with more volition than all others. Even now I am often told that people feel uneasy when first meeting me because they can see 'something in my eyes.'

This bitterness soon grew into a murderous feeling of rage. Rage against God, country, human values, the cruelty of life, and most of all, myself.

I became a conundrum of the jive soul in search of perpetual resurrection. I was greedy to savor every drop of life's essence yet I constantly ignored life in hope of finding that day when I could begin living. I reach out, yet am described as unapproachable.

And it is the doctrine of inaction, the ever present awareness of futility, which fuels my self-hatred. Because this rage, at this very moment, mocks every word I place on paper. I accept that these words are purposeless, pointless, absurd, ridiculous and grossly egotistical. I continue because not to continue would be to lay down and die for all the sorrow and hopelessness that seems apparent in all I perceive.

And 'egotistic?' I am acutely aware that self-hatred is the highest form of egotism. It is this dilemma which is the final barrier for those seeking the zero. For those seeking annihilation of the self.

Excerpt from Apology 8/9/94

8/9/94

Thursday night finds me drinking with Ornelia and her Indian roommate Mina. We are on the patio of Cafe 210 sharing a Carafe of red wine. An unanticipated rainstorm erupts and we move under the awning to avoid the downpour. I sit beside Mina, a small woman with beautiful sharp features who seems to have an impenetrable wall around her insides. As the wine disappears and the night goes on we are joined by Walter, a dubious suitor of Ornelia's who is accompanied by his girlfriend.

In my mind something about the atmosphere seems off kilter. Walter's girlfriend is shooting loathsome darts from her dark eyes. First at Ornelia, then Mina, then glaring at me as if a question mark is sitting atop her crown. Walter chatters to the wind, his attention obviously agitated by Ornelia's presence. Mina and I have gotten into an animated discussion on the trials of being a first generation Indian woman.

In the midst of the conversation I catch a glimpse of Ornelia. She sits quietly as if taken by a deep sadness. In that moment I feel like I can see through her. Simultaneously she appears like a lonely child, a tearful red-faced clown, and a worn old woman grasping at the beauty and gayety of youth.

But these are merely fleeting thoughts and the discussion on India continues. Walter has lapsed into a private conversation with his girlfriend. Again I notice Ornelia, only now her countenance is that of the cruel bitch.

Throughout the evening she has been making a gesture of keeping the smoke from her Marlboro cigarettes from wafting into the breathing space of the non-smoking Mina. Now, with a cool, empty expression on her face she blows a long, slow cloud directly into Mina's profile.

My thoughts disturb me. I can't decide whether I'm suffering from overactive imaginings, or I am in heightened perception discerning the ulterior motives of all present.

The next hour finds us at Zinos. Again there is a roaring crowd. Ornelia has become rambunctious. Her vocabulary has taken a vulgar tone. She, Mina, and I are crammed onto a small bench. Ornelia and I share a glass of wine as she speaks in disconnected spurts.

"There he is again", she points to a large, longhaired man who she shared a mostly sexual relationship with. "He always sees us together. I'm sure his filthy little mind thinks I'm gonna be fucking you tonight. Good! Let him. He lost his chance.

Mina is whispering to me hints of a lost love who broke her heart. I tell her she is intelligent and beautiful and could get lots of guys. To my surprise, and perhaps for the first time since I have met her, Minas shield seems to come down. She looks happy and grateful for the compliment. Her face seems to beam with happiness.

The alcohol is kicking in now and I try to conceal the stagger in my step as I head towards the mens room. Everything appears increasingly cock-eyed. Mina is craving pancakes-immediately! - so we move on to a nearby diner.

Walter had long ago departed. On the way to the diner we find he has dumped his girlfriend in order to accompany us on our way. Once in the diner Walter has ceased to exist. His words fill the air as he desperately interjects himself into the conversation, but I do not hear him.

Ornelia appears to me like a rampage of shattered crystal. I can't quite comprehend what anyone speaks about. The reticent Mina is giving me the thumbs up over the pancakes and there is an argument about the water smelling like worms and Clorox. The fey waiter is giving speeches. Ornelia is debating breaking her eight months of celibacy for the ex-beau at Zinos, Walter is mocking the women, and Mina can't remember the name of the Hindu god with the long angry tongue that haunted her childhood home.

It is a simple carefree evening out with friends. Why then does it seem filled with double meanings, sordid empathy, and misplaced desperation? This happy moment seems undercut with sadness and longing. I lay down to sleep feeling as if taken by madness. I see too much. And what I perceive behind the eyes and actions of my friends breaks my heart and makes socializing almost unbearable a

Excerpt from "Apology" August 15, 1994

August 15, 1994

Friday morning I am awakened by a phone call. An authoritarian voice asks, 'Is Caeser Pink there?"

Thinking quickly I reply, 'He doesn't live here anymore. The last I heard he was living in his car in York, Pa."

"Is that right?" he says incredulously, "If you see him this is the sheriff's office and there's a warrant for his arrest stemming from a traffic citation in Altoona."

I hang up the phone and jump out of bed in a panic. If they find me I may never get out of jail. I decide to take a quick shower and avoid the premises for a few days. While in the shower there is a loud knock at the door. With my heart in my throat I wrap a towel around my waist and peak out the peephole on the door. To my relief it is only Rob Arnold, the X-bass player for The Imperial Orgy. His sight is a relief, but still an awkward situation considering that this is the first time I've seen him since I kicked him out of the band for drinking too much onstage.

Rob was the only band member whose working class roots, like my own, hailed from Lewistown. He is known in the area as a legendary wild man and alcoholic, but at heart and good and generous fellow. He was the band clown and added an element of insanity to the Imperial Orgy. His bass playing was never really up to par, although he was a master at inventing outrageously creative costumes. Sometimes taking the stage in wedding dresses, six-inch pink platform shoes, glitter coated drum major uniforms, or a pink nylon G-string.

Rob's curse was that when he drank, which was every day, he became another man altogether. In the backstage dressing dressing rooms he terrorized the rest of the band with his drunken humor.

While changing costumes he might strip naked and hide his penis between his squeezed together legs.

"Hey guys am I a pussy or what?" he would bellow demanding the attention of all.

He was fond of bringing his Budwieser laden breath close to one's face and gurgling bizarre intimacies, "Y'know I love you guys. I might be a drunken asshole, but I'm a wild man!"

A second later he has a familiar story he must tell the entire room. "Hey guys, hey guys, this asshole came to my place and pinched clothes pins on his nipples. I challenged him. I stood in the cold for twenty minutes with jumper cables clamped on my nipples. That fucker gave up! Did that hurt though! Shit! Hey, Mitch imagine what that would feel like clamped on your balls. Nadine, can you imagine what that would feel like clamped on your balls?"

Our first approach to Rob was to walk out of rehearsal when he drank to much to play his instrument. By the third set of every performance his abilities deteriorated relative to how many pitchers of cheap beer he gulped down. When it became clear he was holding back the quality of the music we told him he had to stop drinking onstage if he wanted to stay in the band. From then on he was filled with resentment and refused to put his heart into the music. At his last gig he would not wear a costume, complaining, "I don't get paid enough to change clothes." During the next to the last song he tore the strings off his bass and stormed offstage.

Since his expulsion I've heard rumors of his wrath with me. Referring to me as Caeser Stink and calling us 'back stabbers'. With this in mind I open the door. He has come to collect a few odd belongings and his attitude is friendly. We talk briefly and I update him on the chaos of my life, including my fear that his knock was the sheriff at my door. He gathers his assortment of cords and containers and we walk towards the door. As he places his hand on the knob I see the sheriff's car pull into the driveway.

"Shit!" I yell, "there he is."

Rob is calm, "Don't worry man, I'll get rid of him."

Still in my towel I hide in the basement hallway. The sheriff knocks and inquires about my whereabouts.

"I haven't seen that guy for weeks," Rob lies coolly, "I'd like to see him myself. I have a few things to settle with him too."

After what seems an eternity he leaves. It is ironic that after I boot him out of the band it is Rob who saves my ass. Rob and I both know what it is like to be in a desperate situation and this knowledge gives us a bond that cuts through the superficial bullshit when the chips are down.

I leave the house still in a panic. My first urge is to get the hell out of town. I have created such a financial mess here it seems I can never dig my way out. With unpaid fines and a ridiculously scarred driving record just being here is a risk. On the way out of town I stop at a phone booth to try to figure out how much the fine is for. I call the local D.A.'s office and am put on hold for an extended period. There are a steady series of electronic beeps as I hold the receiver anxiously and my paranoid mind begins to race, 'what if they are tracing my call? Maybe they're keeping me on hold because the sheriff's on the way here right now." I hang up the receiver and drive off in a rush. Catching hold of myself I stop at another phone booth and re-dial the number. The D.A. has no information about the fine and it takes five more calls to find anything out. I am assuaged to learn that it is only a small fine rather than the one thousand dollars plus I feared. I make arraignments for the fine and return home still shaken.

The next day Sasha comes to State College to help me move. Actually 'move' is not quite the right word for it. Perhaps vacate is more accurate as I have no place to move to. My belongings are stashed haphazardly with friends and family. Don and Jai have my couch, papasan, and TV. Sasha will be taking my CDs and art collection.

It is a strange feeling to know I will be homeless. I am sure I will be able to find someplace to sleep and shower, but I am not one who feels comfortable as a guest and I need a space to call my own. I feel as if I'm stuck in a floating purgatory. From morning to night I wander the streets or work at the university computer labs. This writing fills my time and gives be a vague sense of purpose that helps keep me from sinking into depression. Tomorrow I will leave on a ten day shoot for Filmspace giving me time to think of someplace to stay when I return.

On Sunday afternoon Sasha and I are doing the last of the moving chores. At 3:00 she must leave for home and I am due to leave for the film shoot. The house is nearly empty. I am forced to abandon my clothes dryer and an oriental carpet for lack of anywhere to store them. We clean the house as much as time will allow and leave the rest for Donald. It is a gray, gloomy day and I load my art collection into Sasha's car while rain pours down. We say an extended good-bye and go our separate ways. Driving away from the house is loaded with meaning because I know I am driving away for the last time, and moving forward into a future full of doubt and uncertainty.

'Homeless'. It is hard to associate the word with my self. When life is secure it seems like an unimaginable possibility. But here I am. Reduced to zero. Zero. 'How did I come to this?' -each page of this writing is a dig into the dirt of my life and slowly reveals the trail to my malaise. The plane lifts off the runway as we began our journey for the shoot. Far below on the ground I view the rows of tiny houses and the toy-like cars and trucks. Human life appears like a game that I am no longer a part of. I am floating, propelled through space without a sense of belonging to anyplace or anyone. In the three decades of my life what have I to show for myself? We pass through the clouds and the human world disappears through the soft blankets of white haze.

4/3/06

Most days it's hard to remember that I am free. I could just get in the car and drive until the gas runs out.

I sit among the eight trees and slab of concrete we call a park and look out over the Manhattan skyline. The sun is warm but the air is a bit cool. MOst of the skyline is blocked by stacks of scrap metal that are piled along the river. I really want to get out of the city for a bit.

I spent the weekend working on a website for a new company I am startig called Global Village Workforce.

The Imperial Orgy now has about 60 stations playing our CD. We have about 6 that have banned it, although when questioned by press they always deny it. And the press always believe a college student over a band called The Imperial Orgy.

We have some people in India helping do internet promotion for us this week. It's been very successful.

Feeling stressed this morning by all the work and financial pressures. I wish I could just go play in the sun.