CONFESSIONS OF A ZOOATHAHOLIC :

Q: What is a Zooathaholic?
A: We eat life, before it eats us.

Q: How would you describe a Zooathaholic exactly?
A: The dedicated Zooathaholic is one who would ask:
''But why are you crying crocodile tears, while wearing alligator shoes?''
Not many have the courage to ask these obvious and compelling questions. Zooathaholics do.

Sananda and the Nudge Nudge walk into a bar. Which hurt a little because it was an iron bar. Then of course on the way to the next bar before their concert, one of them slipped on a chocolate bar and was barred from walking without a small limp. Barbra Streisand was also closed that day. Why should she be open for some fools she barely knew just because they were thirsty? They finally found an open bar by following a group of lawyers from the local bar association. Most of whom were Scottish (the rest were fetish). This were a stroke of luck for the band, because otherwise, their last remaining option was a bar of soap. The rock band would be inside the tavern for a while, not because they would drink too much but because they would each be waiting for the other musician to pick up the check with some of their per diems. They may as well stay for a few minutes, as this bar were bartended by a large silver backed gorilla. Who were quite adept at mixing drinks, less adept at listening and guilty on more than a few occasions of butting into other people's argument. He were not shy in establishing that there were not too many Namibian gorillas from his neck of the woods who had made it out of its furry fringes and into the pylon jungles of Babylon.
And he proudly pointed out, he were the ONLY silverback. The rest were all in zoos or being walked over in front of large roaring stone mantled fireplaces, wearing the same expression; 'How the hell did I wind up as a rug with a head? Now all I can do is shrug!' Once, a group of secretaries came into the bar for a colleagues birthday celebration, got sloshed just enough and began chanting, in honor of their friend, 'Go Cilla, Go Cilla!' The bartender, amused, began chanting, counter to their own, 'GORILLA, GORILLA'. The ladies, feeling threatened, began pouring out of the bar even faster than having previously been poured drinks. Once a small cadre of British actors came in and were asked by the ape, why it seemed as if you needed a British passport to work in American films. Feeling accosted by the semblance of a taunting nationalist gorilla, the British actors, all nominees of some kind or another, walked out. And huffily, as British contingents tend to.
Though not before downing, each, a fifth of Dewars and a half bottle of Drambuie. The ape had also bragged to management that he had given advice to Sarah Palin when she came in once from the rain, hooded and scarfed, for a 'wee dram' before a Tea Party appearance in the local vicinity. Apparently, he sold her on the idea of going to Guatemala and finding a well raised chimpanzee, and bringing it back to America and making a film or two with it. The point being that since it worked wonders for the political career of Ronald Reagan, being in a film with a monkey, it might also be just the thing to do the trick for Ms. Palin, this time around. Though to do films might be a little obvious, perhaps something which could be worked into a reality 'based' TV program, or a catchy campaign ad, might be better. The silverback explained that monkeys were also tax deductible if used for entertainment, educational or research purposes.
The gorilla were proudly adamant that without the presence of the simian sidekick, the history of republican politics would never have become the history of republican politics ('And a little ape shall lead them'). Prescient cultural analyst or no, the big ape had to go. He were starting to name drinks after himself and friends. He were also suspected of stealing tips, and the other waiters were too intimidated to question him about it. One did once and was stared down and asked by the massive beast, "And where are the pockets that I am supposed to be stealing money and placing it in?" He then locked the offending waiter in the cheese cellar, knowing that the poor man was allergic to molds and cheeses after his French wife had left him and took everything, including the children and their favorite mustards. And slowly customers, once curious, began drying up, although courtesy of the British actors, a makeup artist had been retained who would come out from time to time and spray water on the faces of those drying customers, who generally appreciated it very much, as long as they didn't get charged on their bill for the extra water.
No one likes hidden water charges, they're insidious. Somehow, as these things are edited, it fell on Sananda and the Nudge to tell the gorilla that his time were up. That his ship had come in and that a raft were available to take him to it. A raft of complaints. The other Nudge, magic bass man and musician Enea Bardi, 'Il Conte', and 'swift kick' drummer/percussionist/backing vocalist extraordinaire, Nick 'The Sticks' Taccori, quickly reminded Sananda that they were needed for soundcheck before the concert. Like now, immediately and without delay. Haste not, want not. Then like a good Tuscan boy and a Milanese would, the Nudge left. And in their general hurry, once again forgot to pay the bar tab, or even throw a few sticky coins at it. Not to worry, it would be the least of Sananda's troubles that day. How do you fire a Namibian silver back gorilla, the alpha of its own homestead and of all domains he surveyed, an ape among apes? And a menace among fools and the faint of heart. And with a permanent look etched onto the face that says, 'Yeah, just try it, I've been waiting for an idiot like you all day'. Sananda, one of a long line of thirsty manifesting Maitreya's, ordered another scotch and soda with a ginger zinger, cleared his throat and said to the gorilla (in a slightly authentic, though rusty trans Atlantic British-esque type of accent by way of Harlem, Florida and Los Angeles):
"Now look here old boy, you old bean, it has fallen upon me, by some quirk of the writer's fancy, to inform you that your services, by this establishment, will no longer be required. Now mix yourself your last martini and then remove yourself at once from these premises forthwith. And you shall refrain from taking with you fist fulls of this establishments bill of fare. Are we clear?"
The bartender did mix himself that drink, thinking to himself that when the drink were swallowed in full, he would smash the glass over Sananda's head and have him carried out by the makeup artist in the back, herself getting as toasted on vodka as she could (as all of her drinks were on the author). But as Sananda himself expected, it didn't quite work out the way the angry gorilla planned. You see, not many people know , though Maitreya knew, having studied for many years in the fabled Halls of Amenti, located beneath the great Pyramid at Giza, that silverback gorillas were susceptible and allergic to packaged green olives. Something to do with the sulfites we are told (and the sulfites predate both the Canaanites and the Israelites). Right as it were about to swig the last drops of its martini, the olive got stuck firmly in the gorillas throat and so it did what most gorillas tend to do in that situation, it panicked and overreacted. And that leads to greater choking probability, which suited none too well the gorillas plans, but worked out quite well for Maitreya and management. As he lay on the floor behind the bar, gasping for pungent air, and with the makeup artist hovering over him spraying him with water to keep him from drying up, like the former customers, Sananda jumped behind the bar, and while looking the gorilla in the eyes, performed what he remembered of the Jedi Mind trick number 3, while singing the Beach Boys anthem 'Barbara Ann' to distract him. He removed the apron from the gorilla and had him gently, though briskly escorted out of the bar by the makeup artist, who had grown to really love him, transplanted Namibian chest thumper or otherwise. To her, like all great beasts, he were just misunderstood. Things turned out well however, as things tend to do when you are writing stories to promote your wares. The makeup artist now works for the Nudge Nudge as wardrobe mistress and merchandise assistant. The gorilla, adjusted and lithium enhanced, now works backstage security for several bands and artists who come through town, and is in the process of telling the story of his exciting life through a video game collaboration with the same Japanese company which produces DONKEY KONG. He is also in talks with SKY HD for a show on responsible drinking and drinks mixing. His message is simple, to the effect that since naturally, you've never seen a drinking gorilla, so neither, by the same logic will you ever see any, drinking and driving at the same time. He is also used as an example to draw more gorillas into bars who might otherwise balk at the prices. He considers himself a ZOOATHAHOLIC, addicted as he is to the many lapses, shapes, twists, turns and surprises that life, riding upon the hard shoulders of its own highway, takes to get back to the highroads of its own existence. And to make use of what low roads and gutters one had to make use of, as one watched one's dice become pillows to help survive the shattered doorways that barriers and obstacles frame into windowpanes. While looking for yours on your knees. And swearing vengeance upon the cloud dusted stars. But hey, we recover from our dances with mud. Though many still pay a fortune in spas, to be reminded of the power of primordial sludge.
Our three caballeros AWAIT YOU NOW ON STAGE! Showered and wearing their favorite deodorant, 'GORILLA-BE-GONE'! Fresh and free from fetid funky pheromones! Ladies and Gents please welcome music to soothe the savage and heaving breast, SANANDA AND THE NUDGE NUDGE'S : 'CONFESSIONS OF A ZOOATHAHOLIC'.You will find Matteo 'Sergente' Sandri at the mixing desk, mixing sound, not aperitivo's, and being ably assisted by the former bartending gorilla, who has now found what he believes to be, his true occupation. A 'Sound-man', and one who likes his sound, his tones, thick and FAT, like your grandmothers ankles. AND he still mixes a mean tequila, which he is known to make from time to time as a way of diffusing corporate hecklers ! And he were lucky that with the usual crowd that rock stars and musicians travel in, most gorillas go unnoticed, unless they have a treasure trove of bar jokes and anecdotes and a full knowledge of the various joys manipulated by, the presence in a drink of a good CREME DE MENTHE. It also did not hurt Sananda in the least that he'd finally found someone he trusted to collect money from the promoters and who actually understood the math on the surcharges AND who could talk to the unions in a language they mutually understood. He proved himself a good friend to circumstance. So the band and crew call the big ape ZODIAC. Adding another Zooathaholic to the bill of time won't hurt the wheel of progress at all, though it might slow it down if we can never manage to pay the electricity bill.
To further improve the beast, Sananda is paying for ZODIAC to take elocution lessons, for voice over work, so that the gorilla can lose the slurring lisp that makes him sound too much like Sylvester Stallone after a midnight punch up in a Brooklyn brewery.

Sananda Maitreya: Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals and Sneer.
Nick 'The Sticks' Taccori: Drums, Percussion and Vocals.
Enea 'Il Conte' Bardi: Bass, Miscellaneous Vibrational Ratio Adjustments, and sometimes, a few discernible vocals and other subtle and assorted crowd control measures learned while serving time in (or being examined by), Military Intelligence.

Crew:
Sound engineer: Matteo 'Sergente' Sandri
Monitor mix and driver: Alessandro La Spina
Guitar, keyboards tech: Sereno Brumana
Website: Lily Philips
Press Office: Margherita Marghera
And the rest of our loyal staff at Treehouse Publishing

Thank you, to all of you for your support and good sentiment and to those brave few concert promoters generous enough to have given me and the music, PMR, an opportunity to shine and grow and be the stuff long held dreams are made of. May your God and the notion thereof, bless and keep you! We are sure that the only thing to do is to keep doing what we are doing for as long as some doing can get done before dregs and doubts do them in. All we can do at this point to help our planet, is to rock as hard as we can, words, lyrics and other effluvia be damned. We would like one day to be considered one of the reasons for global warming, that we rocked so hard, the axis tilted, then broke. After that, then what? What else is there? Verily I say unto you, a grilled cheese sandwich! Maybe with a pickle on the side. Followed by a scotch and soda, with perhaps a ginger zinger for a little extra 'twist' and shout. Remember; THE ZOOATHALON ALWAYS HAS, it's ISLEY'S on you! His eyes ARE on the SPARROW: though we have asked him to also keep an eye on the arrow that would pierce my bone marrow, if the payments stop coming tomorrow. Just as I'm singing my Christmas carols. Are you listening Harold (or looking for more to borrow)?

SFM !

"Confessions of a Zooathaholic" mixed at Mono Studio by Sananda and Matteo.
Mastered at Nautilus Studio by Antonio Baglio.

Artwork by Alessandro Cocchia.

Thanks to Alessandro Pasini for magneto amp.

Cat. no. THP012 - All rights reserved.
All songs written, arranged, produced by Sananda Maitreya
(except for track no.9 written by Jagger/Richards, track no.16 written by Lennon/McCartney, track no.19 written by P. Townshend)
Performed by Sananda Maitreya, Nik Taccori, Enea Bardi.