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My info
Howdy! My name's Scott and I was born and raised in scenic Berkeley, CA. Technically, it was Kensington, an "unincorporated
area" in the Berkeley hills, which is sort of a bedroom community for the greater East Bay. When I grew up, Kensington
was populated primarily by old ladies. When I visit today, which isn't often, it seems to have become quite yuppified (read:
more BMWs and SUVs than big-ass Cadillacs). Our little dead-end street was sandwiched between the EBMUD water filtration
plant and the cemetary, but somehow merited more regular police patrols than the rest of the town. In my defense, I think
it had more to do with the family down the street than my own. Last I heard, one of their brood was doing a bid in San Quentin
while we moved out years ago. The cops may have been glad to see us go, but at least we never killed anyone.
I went to El Cerrito High School, famous for producing Creedence Clearwater Revival and not much else. I managed to
graduate, certainly not with honors, after which I began a downward spiral of drug and alcohol abuse. Yay! I lived in Oakland
for a while, played in a band (the mighty Pillage Sunday) and ultimately wound up living in a junkyard in North Richmond,
where we fenced stolen merchandise and cooked crystal meth. Yay! One day, I was invited to join some friends who were starting
a band in San Jose. Luckily, I got the hell out of Richmond just weeks before the cops raided my old homestead. They tracked
me down, but weren't particularly interested in prosecuting me. They wanted me to testify in a murder trial, but that was
about it. Phew!
In San Jose, I spent a few years living the prototypical musician's lifestyle. We had a big house downtown (which
we subsequently wrecked) where we lived and practiced, playing shows whenever the opportunity arose. We were originally Screamin'
Vittles, which morphed into Hell on Stilts when we changed singers. I also played with the Spitmuffins, the Byproducts, Hayride
and a few other hitherto unnamed outfits. Those were good times, when irresponsibility was SOP and cheap beer flowed like
water. In the late '90s, I joined the Parasites (originally from NJ, but transplanted to Berkeley with my younger, handsomer
brother Dan on drums, the ubiquitous Nikki/Dave Parasite on guitar/vocals and about 20 other guys on lead guitar over the
years), with whom I toured the US, Spain and Japan. We made a few records and had a good time overall. Touring, however, is
not all it's cracked up to be. For starters, employers tend to prefer employees who aren't gone for 1/3 of the year. As a
result, I had some pretty crappy jobs. I've filled vending machines, stocked merchandise at an army surplus store, explored
the world of telemarketing...yecch. Anyway, by 1999 I was pretty much done.
For the new millennium, I made a complete u-turn. In October, 1999, I married Gini (the love of my life, who had put
up with my galavanting for several years and deserved far better) and did one final tour. We got on the west coast leg of
the Buzzcocks/Lunachicks/Down by Law tour, which allowed us to play the Fillmore and the Palace. It's not that big a deal
(actually, if I recall correctly, the people were all assholes), but everyone should be able to say "I played the Palace".
Gini and I got hitched in Vegas on Oct 16, the day after her birthday (clever, eh?), and it was a gas. If you missed it,
well, you fucked up.
The same year, I went back to school (Wow! Only 16 years after high school!) and got my BS in Marketing. Unfortunately,
I got my degree at about the same time the economy took a dump and I was laid off from my job as an electronics salesman.
An electronics salesman?!!! Yup, I said "a complete u-turn". Anyway, I was only unemployed for about six months;
not bad in this economy. I briefly managed a branch of Labor Ready (which I will certainly discuss at length later) and then
got lucky. A firm believer in never burning bridges, I had impressed the fine folks at SJSU enough (during my on-and-off
employment there) that they offered me a warehouse manager position. That's where I am today.
Yes, after all that, I'm a happily married homeowner with a bunch of cats. It may not be exotic or particularly lucrative,
but it's nice to take a breather. Hell, I'm only 38. Maybe I'll start shooting heroin when I'm 80. Obviously, anything's
possible.
How about a pic of the old neighborhood?
Here's the trailer in which I spent the better part of 1989.
Good enough.
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