“Hanging out on second avenue eating chicken vindaloo”

Having inner turmoil more than ever lately. For example I went to sleep at 1PM today, as in, instead of going to bed at 6 or 7 am as I usually do, it's now getting to be noon or later. Then I have to sleep until 7 or 8pm to make any sense. It's not a deep sleep either, I can hear myself thinking of things I have to do, emails I have yet to answer, calls I still need to return.

I am pleased my massage team is getting more and more popular amongst touring bands- today we helped out Cold War Kids in Amsterdam, Elbow in Amsterdam and one of the Flogging Molly entourage, also in Amsterdam, as well as Dozens of other touring bands, I am literally drowning in work, but very often, one of my Dot Bots will report back and say she only made 45 euros backstage (1 euro per minute of massage) or some, sadly even say, they went there, set up, and the bands bus broke down and didn't arrive in time to get massages. One cheeky band even had Dot Bot come backstage, do the standard "one free back rub for management at each gig" then left a note on her table when she was washing hands that "no one else will have time for a massage, but you are more than welcome to watch show and hang out and party after". Pffft!!!!! 

Then I have yet another ex Dot Bot (fired for being a traitor) busy trying to build a competitive massage team, naturally using my methods, contacts, even rules (she mistakenly tried to hire some of my current Dot Bots that aren't online yet and naturally they all sent me her emails which had MY contract with her heading on them) my rules, my instructions, everything. This bitch has been so busy recently turning her female production manager friends against me, and when they meet a Dot Bot on tour, like at a recent Danzig show, rips my Dot Bots face off, all out of fear of competition. What a backstabbing business this is. I started massaging rock stars back in 1982, I am pretty sure I am the first one to do so. Naturally, competition is expected, but being lied to and stabbed in the back from what I thought were loyal people, is sickening. UGH!!


If I dare leave the house for a while to go eat, work out, jog or god forbid, have some fun at karaoke once a month, I only come home to be punished by the now 800+ emails waiting for me to answer. Emails from people from all over the world wanting to join my massage/chiropractic team, emails from people asking love/sex/relationship advice, emails from the small amount of real friends I still have, emails from band managers, musicians themselves, relatives, omg, it never ends. I used to have hours to blog, write for my books, watch the occasional movie, but not anymore. I wanted to go to Thailand over Christmas, but I doubt that will ever happen. I got so far behind just from being in Boston for those two weeks- I STILL haven't even wrote my Boston blog (or even the full Rock am Ring blog from the summer).  This isn't because I am sitting around on the sofa watching TV. It's because I am so swamped, so overwhelmed I don't even have time to wank anymore. I guess I am a work-o-holic. Better than being into drugs or alcohol, for sure, but it still affects the people around me (when I DO see other people). I keep hoping for the day that my massage team is in place, solid, and stays that way, but it changes every day. Some get pregnant, move to a place that would have no chance for massage work, quit because their man is too jealous of their contact with rock stars, get fierd for being a traitor or just find any old reason to quit ("job at the spa is too much now, I can't take anymore work") so then the task of finding an AMAZING replacement begins; auditions, interviews, loads of emails back and forth, etc. omg. 


Ok, now I am done venting for now, the headache one gets for not receiving their daily green tee at the same time every day is pounding away so I have to get this last bit out before I sign off.


Thursday night I had dinner with Jasmine on 2nd ave, lower east side, where I have eaten Indian food for years, even as far back as when I was dating Joey Ramone (1983, 84, 85). I am pretty sure it is the same place Joey sings about in the song way below. Anyways, I had tried to invite Arturo to come eat with us, but he never answered his phone (found out later he is in Mexico for a couple weeks). 

 Arturo and I a few years ago ^  at the Niagra bar

Notice Arty left Marky's name out of the symbol ^



Anyways, Jasmine and I decided to go eat alone anyways, without Arturo. Sitting there starving, I was shocked/happy/surprised to see Marky Ramone and a friend walk in. I said "MARKY! Long time no see!" and he was like "Dr. Dot! What the hell!? ha ha". Anyways, I don't know why, I guess because of the commotion I said "funny you are here now, as I had been trying to reach Arty all night to ask him to come here too" and he snapped "NOT on good terms with Arty right now Dot!" he went on to explain all the gory details, the typical arguing that goes on when certain band members die and they other surviving members and associates feel the need to fight over what belongs to whom, etc. The same exact SHIT is going on with the Zappa family. So fucking sad how everyone can't just get along. sigh. 

Taken Thursday night over Indian Food ^  "on the avenue"


Thing is, Arturo invented the Ramones logo years ago, he is their art director, friend, lighting director, etc, since the very beginning, and by the way, Marky is not even their original drummer, Tommy is.  Sigh, I just try to stay neutral, I am extremely close to Arturo, he is like family to Jasmine and I, so naturally I felt uncomfy hearing his rants. I just grinned and bared it and changed the subject. The food, as always, was amazing and I felt Joey's presence that night. Not only was it strange I was wearing a Ramones shirt (just randomly threw it on) but Mark comes in and joins us, then Jasmine and I strolled Greenwich Village together and stopped to read RAMONES in cement, that someone obviously spent a lot of time on when it was wet. It was like every hour the Ramones were in our face, on our tongues, it was eery/fun/sad/strange. I was like, "HI JOEY!!! I can feel you! Miss you!"


 "Hanging out on Second Avenue Eating chicken vindaloo
I just want to be with you I just want to have something to do
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight
Wait-Now Wait-Now

Hanging out all by myself Cause I don't want to be with anybody else
I just want to be with you I just want to have something to do Tonight"

The Ramones

One last imagine, totally unrelated, but I had to share it: