Last night was a fitful night, full of tossing and turning with weird dreams and nightmare scenarios. I had a lot on my mind I suppose.
Our upstart indie punk label, Punk Outlaw Records recently signed a legendary punk band from Moscow Russia, Tarakany! and they are in the studio as I type and possibly as you read, recording some of their best Russian language songs from their last 22 years into an English language release sometime in 2013.
Tarakany! translated into English means “Cockroach” and coincidental or no, I have been battling an invasion of real cockroaches in my super clean, super modern Santa Monica apartment for about 30 days now, come to think of it, since about the time that we actually signed the Tarakany! contract.
Of course, the pest control people have come and sprayed their nasty chemicals. I’ve made sport of killing the cockroaches, usually as quickly (shoe stomping works great) and hence, humanely as possible.
But as of late, I’ve gotten frustrated with the shoe technique (it’s not 100%) and have begun killing them with good old fashioned Raid bug spray. I see one and I don’t chase the poor bugger (British pun intended) anymore, I just grab the Raid and spray a silent and deadly 1/8 inch stream or so of chemical death and watch the poor thing die a horrible screaming death. I’m not sure but it seems I can imagine him actually screaming in pain and agony. Do roaches have vocal chords? If roaches were a band, they’d be a punk band for sure don’t you think.
But it’s working, my invasion of roaches are are slowly but surely on the decline. Instead of a couple jumping out every time I move something, I might see only one per day now. I’m still waiting for the “all clear” the pest control company promised 3 weeks after they first sprayed, but I think it’s coming any day now.
But last night, in my dreams, these cockroaches were life size and throwing a big party in my Santa Monica pad. They had taken over the apartment and they were smoking pot and cigarettes (my apartment is strictly no smoking!), drinking beer, eating and yes, playing some kick ass and very loud punk rock music LIVE, guitars, amp and all, and get this.. in Russian! I can’t remember the exact tunes but I remember thinking, I like this cockroach punk music.
While all this was going on , four of them were playing poker at at my kitchen table. Another was on my computer, playing bingo at partybingo.com and shouting that he was “on a roll”.
And yet another was in my bathroom, on the toilet smoking a big cigar while reading the New York Post. When I walked in he barked at me “Don’t you knock? Can’t you see I’m busy?!” and I humbly and quietly said my apologies and ducked out. No where to go, my bedroom was calling me but it was full of life sized cockroaches doing unspeakable acts on each other.
The music was so loud the neighbors were banging on the walls and I was powerless to do a thing. No one was listening to me.
Then it struck me, I had to get the Raid. If only I could find the Raid, I’d be able to clear these guys out and get my apartment back.
And then, suddenly, thankfully I wake up. Thirsty, sweating and disoriented, I headed to the kitchen to get a drink of water. As soon as I flipped on the light, I saw a dead (or passed out from the raid party?), cockroach, legs up… still twitching. I grabbed a paper towel and buried him at sea by throwing the bastard down the toilette.
Since then I haven’t seen even one other. But I’ll admit, I’m a little afraid to go to sleep now.