Greetings,
This is a preview of a tune I produced with some friends of mine. It will be on my new album. I’m in the process of saving up money to complete the mixing and mastering of the disc.
My friend’s sister showed him this podcast. He, in turn, showed it to me. If you should feel so compelled: pass it on.
TED CONOVER: “Sing Sing Tattoo”
“When everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out—the bad part on the outside, and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be, and what I could be, if only there were no other people in the world.”
http://www.tedconover.com/2010/01/sing-sing-tattoo/
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. This is human. This is storytelling.
So there’s this movie called INCEPTION (I like that one a lot—I pretty much like anything by Christopher Nolan: he poops creativity as far as I’m concerned).
I myself could be antiquated to a 32 year old vagina turd (sorry mom, it sounded funny in my head—yeah, that’s right, I knew you would laugh at that). At any rate, I called my mom on April 20th and asked her to give me the skinny on the day of my birth as my recollection is pretty shit on that day. So, this is my interpretation of a story that my mom told me and it’s called:
CONCEPTION.
My mother and father were watching my uncle Paul play a high school baseball game. The year is 1979 and the teams playing on this dilapidated clay and grassy diamond were Redwood High School (this is where I spent my angst ridden pubescent years as well) vs. Lemoore High School.
After my parents had their fair fill of balls slapping wood, they made a quick pit stop at some hole-in-the-wall eatery in Hanford for dinner. According to my mother, this is where the term “don’t drink the water” came from, as, apparently, Hanford’s water supply emanates the faint yet pungent smell of rotten eggs (I’m trying to decide whether that is the scent of sulfur or not—nonetheless, Dave Matthews, apparently, has Hanford to thank for such a great song and not apartheid in South Africa). Okay, wait. Where was I in this story? … Oh, yeah, in my mom’s womb.
They got home shortly after dinner, and my mom wasn’t feeling too swell (must have been from the water she drank earlier). She was taking a shower at around 10:30 or 11:00 PM, when suddenly her water broke! [kaploosh]
By midnight, my mom was being rushed past the labor room and being brought directly to delivery. My imagination pictures a young doctor around that same hour being called away from some formal engagement in order to deliver Mrs. Vitale’s child in a swank tuxedo (hey, this is my story).
Sometime between the hour of midnight and 1:00 AM, that same doctor mentioned, is washing his hands after dressing into his blue scrubs.
At precisely 1:03 AM, I literally fell into this doctor’s arms, and no sooner did he exclaim, “It’s a boy!” then did I empty my tank of urine all over him (9 months is my record for holding it). The only words he could muster were, “Well, at least we know that works.”
Touring by your self is fun, but touring with Cory Joseph is funner. 1
Having done a few college and university tours all by my lonesome, I can attest that having company makes all the difference.
In fact, just a few days into my first tour up the West Coast, I found myself deeply starved for human interaction: I remember having a quite an interesting and long winded conversation with some random dude on the street in Seattle who was trying desperately to sell me crack or a hand job only moments before… and if hindsight truly is 20/20, I think I should have been doing this a long time ago, and I don’t mean smokingcrack, accepting hand jobs from strangers, or having longwinded conversations—I mean touring with dudes like Cory.
We had a lot of fun on our brief stint up the West Coast—
April 18th 2010 – Visalia House Concert
April 19th 2010 – 210 Café in Visalia, CA
April 23rd 2010 – Red Rocks Café in Mountain View, CA
April 25th 2010 – The Kilns in Bend, OR
but in all honesty, Cory beat me to the punch in terms of blogging about it in a very engaging fashion. So, if you find yourself yearning for a more comprehensive and chronological account of our exploits, I invite you to check out Cory’s blog (not to mention his music):
More blogs coming soon (I have a lot to write about), so stay tuned.
- Mike
- Oh, I can hear it now. You’re probably thinking, funner isn’t a real word. Well you know what, yes it is, and I’ll explain why. Ignoring any instructor induced grammatical hoopla exemplifying that it isn’t a real word, or for that matter all educational and/or spell check standards aside, the primary function of any language is communication and understanding. So, considering that you understand what I am saying when I spout out “funner,” it really is a word.
Dear Mike,
I want to be upfront with you about the way I’ve felt lately, and I know that you feel the same way I do considering how close we are (both figuratively and physically). I need you to know that the decisions you make have a profound effect on my happiness and general comfort level—and I must say, your decisions lately have inevitably led to a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness on my part, hence this letter.
You see, it all started with your latest purchase: a pair of briefs—underwear, at the local designer clothing store. For years now, you have done right by me, taking great care in purchasing what I like: boxer briefs. Generally, and in my humble opinion, I think you look far more attractive in them; they are loose and casual, comfortable and dynamic in their flow and adhesiveness—I feel quite at home in them.
Now, I am all about self-exploration (I mean, come on, we’ve had our fair share of creative shenanigans together—you remember that time with the rubber bands?), and I certainly want you to try new things, or in this particular case, retry new old things that you used to do 20 to 25 years ago when you didn’t have a choice (Christmas was always socks and Fruit of the Loom briefs from mom and dad—hi mom and dad), but I digress.
Look, I was fine when you came home with the first pair of brand new designer briefs from the store a week or two ago, but then, as if to add insult to injury, YOU BOUGHT TWO MORE PAIR! What on Earth were you thinking? I’m getting the cold sweats just thinking about this—it’s like I’m stuck with this decision in much the same manner as I am your leg, and I don’t like it! It’s like my creative and general comfort level suffocates as the borders of your briefs draw closer and closer to me with every wash and dry cycle—those 100% cotton abominations! YOU should be ashamed! That wedgie you are feeling right now up your fault line is no fault of mine and you know it—think of the cocoa brown stains that could happen if you weren’t thorough.
What would a lady friend think of that? Answer me!
[deep breath] I’m sorry…
I need to know: is it something I did or said? Look, I love you and I want you to be happy. Talk to me. We can work this out. I just want everything between us (specifically, our underwear) to be more like how it used to be—when the things between us were fresh, more boxer-brief-like, and consensual.
Sincerely,
Your Testicles
My friend Tina forwarded this to me this morning, and I thought that this was absolutely necessary to share:
These are from a book called “Disorder in the American Courts,” and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes .
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
__________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn’t it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn’t know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He’s twenty, much like your IQ.
____________________________ _______________
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honour, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
__________________________________ _________
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the circus was in town, I’m going with male.
_____ _______________________________
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
_____________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
________________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WIT NESS : The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: I believe so. If not, he was by the time I finished.
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?
_____________________________________
And the best for last:
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.
Hey Everybody,
So, like a complete idiot, I didn’t snap any shots from the stage when I played the first round of the Best Acoustic Showcase for the Orange County Music Awards, however, luckily, some people with professional camera equipment did. So through the magic of my blog, I thought I would share a couple of shots from January 26th at The Gypsy Den in Santa Ana. I can honestly say that every musician killed that night and it was an absolute pleasure sharing the stage with my friends Kurt Hunter, Brittany Bontempo, and Marc B. It was also awesome to make new friends The Vacuum Bell, I hate you just kidding, and some of the members of Canvas.
For more coverage of this year’s Orange County Music Awards, you can visit the following links:
http://www.ocmusicawards.com/
http://www.ocmusicawards.com/blog/
Thank you to everyone that came out—I think the OCMA’s estimated that there was around 225 people that came out to support that night! I hope you all had fun.
Can you find yourself in some of the crowd shots? It’s like “Where’s Waldo,” but without the stripped shirt.
- Mike
Hey Everybody,
So, I’m in the process of a booking a spring tour with Cory Joseph in late April/early May along the West Coast! We are going to be playing college/university campuses, house shows, venues, etc..
We are always looking for help in terms of places to visit and play, so if you are interested in helping us out by setting up any of the above mentioned, nothing is out of the question. Leave a comment below and we’ll get back to you right quick.
However, more importantly, we need a name to christen our tour. Here are some suggestions that Cory and I both came up with this morning:
a.) Two Guys, one cup [this seemed a bit gross to me].
b.) The Italian Stallion Tour
c.) Two guys, one Mike.
What do you think? Leave a comment below with some suggestions and we’ll pick the best one and carry it with us as our shining moniker as we travel the West Coast like a bunch of gypsies. Bring it on. Ready… go!
No, I wasn’t a Latchkey Kid—my mom was there waiting at home for me every day at 3:00 PM. In fact, I would be the first to say that there is nothing wrong with being a Latchkey Kid (as I had quite a few friends growing up who were). Besides, this song is not really about being a Latchkey Kid. It’s really about parents taking the time out of their life to love their children. A child’s journey becoming someone unique and relevant in this world starts with his or her parents as a foundation and blueprint, for which there is no substitute.
ALSO
Welcome to my first installment of bedroomCLASSICS: This is a brand new song called “Latchkey Kid” and it is going to be on my next album which I am currently in the process of writing. I debuted it at The 2010 Orange County Music Awards Showcase a week or so ago—I wish I could adequately describe the pleasure, gratification, and magic of having 200 people sing along to a song. Perhaps we all have a bit of Latchkey Kid inside of us—or perhaps not. Either way, I hope you like it: I’ve included the words below the video.
Latchkey Kid
Words and Music: Mike Vitale
Coloring books when I was nine
Anything that I could do to pass the time
Finished up my homework after I go home from school
Built a blanket fort in my living room
Set the oven to 400 degrees myself
Perched up on the countertop to reach a kitchen shelf
It’s dinner time, and my parents are nowhere to be seen
So corn dogs and fish sticks are my routine
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
Waiting by the phone for my parents to call
Staring at our family portrait hanging on the wall
My daddy says no TV if stay up too late
Too bad he aint here to regulate
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a Latchkey Kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
Sometimes my father would come home late
And my mother would be drunk by then, smell perfume, and throw a dinner plate
No one to read me story when I tuck myself into bed
So I dream of love
I dream of love
and then start my day again
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid, and nobody cares about the trouble that I’m gettin’ in
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I’m a latchkey kid
I recently had the luxury of sitting down with myself to conduct an exclusive interview. Having interviewed and/or spoken to several artists just like myself, I was definitely looking forward to the conversation regarding various topics. However, while on a surface level, Mike seems like a wonderful person, in my own humble opinion, it became increasingly apparent as our interview unfolded that he doesn’t handle questions very well—you decide.
Mike: So, what was the inspiration behind this interview with your self?
Mike: Well Mike, I think a one-half serving of Playboy’s Playmate of the Month interviews, and God knows what else—I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. It’s like the story behind the breasts, except—I don’t have breasts.
Mike: Well, we should probably be moving forward to the first question.
What are your biggest turn-ons?
Mike: Wait, isn’t this the second question? Never mind. I guess you’re the expert. Hmm, turn-ons… definitely when someone asks good questions—and a sense of humor: I like that. You seem to lack one of these traits.
Mike: What are your biggest turn-offs?
Mike: Talking to myself: this conversation is over. Just kidding.
Mike: What’s the worst place for a guy to hit on you?
Mike: Pretty much anywhere. I had a guy hit on me at a bar a few months ago—I was shocked by his horrible singing voice, and he was taken aback by my preference for vagina.
Mike: What’s the worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard?
Mike: It’s less of a pickup line, and more of an effort to get my attention. The same guy I mentioned previously was snapping pictures of me from the table next to ours trying desperately to make eye contact with me—I think he had his fair share of wine that night and was craving some Italian.
Mike: What’s the best or most creative pick-up line you’ve ever heard?
Mike: What is it with you and pickup lines? I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone use a pickup line on me before—I’ve had someone buy me a drink. Does that count? My roommate asked me once if my parents were retarded—I said, no. He then qualified this with “you’re pretty special.”
Mike: What approach is most likely to work with you?
Mike: Are we talking about boys or girls? Honestly, where the hell are you getting these questions from?
Mike: What signals do you give to a man when you want him to make the first move?
Mike: You seriously took these questions straight out of a Playboy Playmate of the Month interview, didn’t you? Did you consider reversing the gender to make this appropriate and applicable in terms of a standard interview? What can someone possibly walk away with here? They’ve learned nothing about me! Can you ask me something meaningful? I don’t know—perhaps something about my new website that just launched, or maybe my new E.P. that just went on sale today? How about something about iTunes, and how they take 33% of an artist’s profits right off the top, and how it’s better to buy the music directly off an independent artist’s website. Maybe something about buying my new CD online at http://www.mikevitalemusic.com.
[At this point, I seem noticeably flustered.]
Mike: I’ll ask the questions, thank you very much. Have you ever been in a situation when two men competed for your attention at the same time? Who won, and why?
Mike: This is ridiculous—I’m done [removing microphone from collar and throwing it on my chair as I walk away].
