Amoeblog

They Call Me The Mercenary #2

Posted by phil blankenship, February 2, 2008 10:56am | Post a Comment
 



SO MUCH FOR CLEAN LIVING. MAN O.D.'s ON WATER

Posted by Billyjam, February 2, 2008 05:00am | Post a Comment
As reported recently by Britain's Daily Mail newspaper, a 35 year old English man overdosed, not on drugs or from alcohol poisoning -- but from drinking too much water. For real! According to British authorities, Shaun McNamara  "drank himself to death ... after he downed glass after glass of water."

Medical experts found absolutely no trace of any narcotics in his system, nor did they suspect suicide or foul play of any kind. However, according to the mother of the deceased, her son had been depressed and overdosed on drugs back in 2005 and apparently since then had been trying to live an extremely healthy lifestyle that consisted of drinking unusually large amounts of water.

And while it sounds weird that someone could actually die from drinking water, stories of such a thing do surface from time to time. There was a case in Europe some years back where someone took too much of the drug ecstasy, and in an attempt to counter the illegal drug's dehydrating effects, drank way too much water and then died of water intoxication. Medical experts said that it was not the drug but the water in the person's system that killed them.

Another case you may remember was in California just a year ago, last January, when Sacramento  woman Jennifer Strange died in relation to a "Hold Your Wee for a Wii" contest by a local radio station KDND. The unfortunate 28 year old mother of three, in a bid to win a Nintento Wii video game system, drank an excessive amount of water (two gallons) in a short period of time and then tried to hold it for as long as possible without going to the bathroom. It killed her. According to the Sacramento Coroner's Office she died of "water intoxication."

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sulla strada, capitolo cinque

Posted by Whitmore, February 2, 2008 03:26am | Post a Comment
In Milan, Milano ... we'll be here for over a week staying in a friends apartment as we have several shows in the surrounding area, including a big show at a club called Bloom (famous for being the first club Nirvana ever played in Italy). Anyway, this apartment will have to be our home away from home for a while, and it's big enough, I think, for the nine of us on tour ... And over here, alongside the piano, where this strip of carpet is, well this part of the floor is my very own ...

But I can't sleep. It can't be jetlag, I've been here a little too long. I'm not tense or stressed, nor depressed, nor starving - far from starving - and I really do like sleeping on the floor - I do it all the time at home in LA - but I just can't seem to sleep ...

On a night I don't sleep I don't think anyone understands 'undisturbed' less than I do, its suppose to mean untroubled by interference or disturbance, I wouldn't know ... of course if there is someone else out here walking with me, they are more silent, invisible ... I should be concerned, but I'm actually undisturbed by such a threat. Hey, there it is, definition!  If there is someone else out here on the streets of Milano at 4am, and if they too are halfcracked from sleeplessness ...  I suspect he too doesn't understands 'undisturbed' (well, the chances are he'll speak Italian anyway!) and except for the fact that we most likely couldn't understand each other, this other insomniac and I could probably talk till dawn about what undisturbed means and doesn't mean to us.

Actually I'm lying, and I'm laying in bed in our temporary home in Milan, I can't leave, I couldn't get back in through the security doors ... the other 4am night walker out there, and you know who you are, is just going to have to remain invisible without me.

Records make the world go round

Posted by Mr. Chadwick, February 2, 2008 12:25am | Post a Comment


sulla strada, capitolo quattro

Posted by Whitmore, February 1, 2008 02:52pm | Post a Comment
For once we actually arrived at our appointed destination early. This doesn't happen everyday. Actually this has never happened before. I doubt it will ever happen again.

Savona is a beautiful blue-tinged seaside resort town, and a town I'll always remember as the one where we given a police escort to leave. The main drag runs only a few feet from the beach and the quietly breaking Mediterranean waves, the road only pulls away from the shore near the marina where the dry docks are filled with impressive looking yachts sitting on blocks; either waiting for repairs, remodeling or a party. Savona oozes cash, you can smell the euros floating around, wafting from the wallets of elderly tourists dressed in three piece suits and full length mink coats as they wander the cafes, shops, boardwalks and beaches. Above the downtown corridor in the hills you can see the brightly painted stone and brick houses with their masterfully landscaped gardens and patios, and whose inhabitants I presume also dine in these restaurants, shop in these shops - dressed in their finely tailored Italian suits and floor length minks.

Since we were uncharacteristically early, we checked into our hotel, the club Rain Dogs provided for us. We dropped off all our crap, I took a quick shower. Afterward, I tried to dial in something on television. I unexpectedly became transfixed by Italian MTV and a show called Star Wars, tonights episode: Duran Duran vs Depeche Mode. Unfortunately, soundcheck beckoned so I wasn't able to stick around and see who came out on top. I can only imagine it ended in a contractually obligated draw.

Rain Dogs is said to be the nicest club in the area. It's roomy with a nice size stage and with a real piano. The upstairs green room also doubles on occasion as a small screening room, and the walls are decorated in vintage 60's rock posters from the classic shows of the Family Dog and Avalon Ballroom. The owner, I discovered later, is a huge fan of the Grateful Dead. I can safely say he is the first Italian Deadhead I've ever met.

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