Name This Song

I’m usually good at titles, but I’m at a loss with this one. So I’m reaching out to you, my loyal and deeply loving fans, to name this for me. This is a demo version — there might be another recording on the album, since I just did this in my living room — but it’ll probably still just be piano and vocals.

This song is dedicated to everyone who’s ever had a shit job at a casino, or had to deal with the drunken fucking pigs who haunt them. For the record, folks who like to visit Vegas — yes, we really do sit around and make fun of you. Especially if you’re famous. If I were into blackmail, I’d be a millionaire — I know some profoundly nasty shit about a lot of famous people. So fuck y’all, and this is for my homies.

Red State Soundsystem – Untitled Vegas Song

Leave your ideas in the comments. The winner gets their name and a thanks in the liner notes of the finished album. (What, you thought you’d get a physical prize? I’m ghetto fabulous, folks!)

Untitled Vegas Song

They pull into Baker at two in the morning And marvel that anyone lives here at all Just fifty-odd miles from the Nevada border Where there’s never any such thing as last call

And everyone’s winning until they start losing And losing and losing, but they never learn But who gives a fuck, well, at least it’s not boring And it doesn’t matter, we’ve money to burn

Bigger and brighter and faster and louder And better than anything you’ve ever seen Smoking cigars by the pool at the Hard Rock Hitting on strippers and living the dream

But this is a kingdom of millionaire vagabonds Living in darkness like millionaire trolls Growing their fingernails sharper than razors Pissing in coffee cans, losing their souls

And after they’ve headed back to the real world We are the keepers who clean up their mess We launder their sheets and we empty their ashtrays And try to forget all the things they’ve confessed And later we gather in all night casinos And laugh at the losers who come to this town And we all insist that we’re leaving tomorrow… But when the sun rises, we’re all still around

I pull into Baker at four in the morning To fill up on coffee and gas for the drive If I can just make it as far as Los Angeles I might just get out of Vegas alive

Hey Washington — Can You Stop Embarrassing Us, Please?

US says it has right to kidnap British citizens – Times Online

The American government has for the first time made it clear in a British court that the law applies to anyone, British or otherwise, suspected of a crime by Washington. Legal experts confirmed this weekend that America viewed extradition as just one way of getting foreign suspects back to face trial. Rendition, or kidnapping, dates back to 19th-century bounty hunting and Washington believes it is still legitimate.

Christ, how are we possibly the good guys at all, anymore?

On Leslie Feist, Briefly

Leslie Feist chooses her singles very well. I have her first album (or second, but first that anybody ever heard), and of all the songs on it, I like “Mushaboom” best. Same with “1234”, which is an incredibly lovely song. At her best — these songs — her work has a sort of wistfulness and…not nostalgia, precisely, but a longing for a better time, whether it be past or present. I still think the best line she ever wrote was “We’ll collect the moments, one by one / I guess that’s how the future’s done”.

“Mushaboom”

“1234”

Wikipedia doesn't love me

A while ago, somebody put up a Wikipedia entry for my “Grim Meathook Future” essay. I followed it and created an entry for myself, which I thought was okay — it’s just a bio stub, nothing especially self-promotional, just a sort of “hey, this is who this person is”.

Apparently, the powers-that-be at Wikipedia want to delete it. Which I don’t quite understand, personally, because I was under the impression that Wikipedia’s ultimate goal was to sort of be an Encyclopedia Galactica. I am a published author and musician, my work’s out there…I don’t have any delusions of grandeur but I thought I had enough of a small reputation that it would be useful to have a Wikipedia entry for me.

But I guess not. Sigh. I am one of the little people.

Addendum…

If you’ve emailed me or sent me a MySpace message, I got it while I was gone, but I didn’t respond to anything, since I almost never had access with my laptop and Turkish keyboards are laid out completely differently. (They have two letter I’s, which is amusing when your last name is ‘Ellis’. I thought my Google account had been hacked, and they couldn’t find me in the Turkish Airlines database twice ’cause they used the wrong I.) I’m still playing catch-up on communication, so don’t expect to hear from me immediately.

Christ.

There are dudes out front of my hotel here in Frankfurt that appear to be neo-Nazi skinheads — shaved heads, leather jackets with ‘DEMONIC PROBE’ written on them. I’m fighting the urge to put on my leather jacket and my stomping boots and roll down there, singing “Right In Der Fuhrer’s Face” by Spike Jones and getting rowdy. They don’t look that tough.

But I’m not going to. I’m not stupid.

Be fun, though, wouldn’t it? And a sort of karmic workout session, even if I got the shit kicked out of me.

Don’t worry. I’ll just sit up here on my balcony, thinking evil thoughts at their little bald heads.

God, I hate Nazis.

Still Alive

I’m in my friend Mehmet’s carpet shop in Göreme, in Cappadocia. I’m leaving on the night bus to Istanbul (how fucking romantic-sounding is that?) in a couple of hours.

Cappadocia is amazing. This whole trip has been amazing. I have billions of pics and videos. I will be in Istanbul tomorrow and Frankfurt tomorrow night, and then going home the next day. See you when I see you.