
So last Friday @mixiemoxie calls me up as I am driving home from playing the 15th Annual Police Charity Ball. She was practically hyperventilating when she asks if Amanda Palmer (or, AFP as she’s lovingly referred to) can borrow my keyboard for a few days.
A.F.P. Amanda. Fucking. Palmer. Of the Dresden Dolls. Anyone who’s heard me play more than once has heard me play “Coin Operated Boy” (the guys at Howl poke fun at me to no end anytime I play it)…that song was written by Amanda Fucking Palmer.
My ex, Mixie Moxie, is a SUPERFAN of AFP. She gets text alerts anytime AFP farts. I am a fan, but I opted to turn off her fart alerts, and while I was aware AFP was coming to Orlando for a solo show, I was unaware of her need for a keyboard to practice on while she’s on holiday with her boyfriend, Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) in Melbourne (Florida…not Australia).

Mixie Moxie and AFP in my living room, eyebrows and all
So in exchange for an autographed “Who Killed Amanda Palmer” book, a couple of tickets to her show, and fortune and fame of incalculable amounts, I agreed to let her borrow my Roland FP-3 for a week.
Unfortunately I wasn’t here when she came to pick up said keyboard with aforementioned boyfriend…the very reason that I own a keyboard of the sort that AFP would deem appropriate to practice on for her big shindig with the Boston Pops on New Years Eve (how about a couple tickets to THAT that show, Amanda???)
is that I play professionally and I was fortunate enough to have had a paying gig that night (or unfortunate, from the perspective of NOT being home when AFP and NFG were in my F’n house.)
But they were here, and they left me a very nicely signed copy of the printed third of their first collaborative effort, “Who Killed Amanda Palmer” (also an album and a series of videos), and tomorrow when I go see her perform at her sold-out show at The Social, she will be playing my FP-3. And I will be wishing I was on that stage with her and my keyboard, but I know I have been on that stage before and I know I will be again…it is, after all, the Social. And Amanda Palmer certainly needs no help from the Diggz in the entertainment department. Heck, you should see her “living statue” act. To. Die. For.
Today I logged on to Twitter and noticed AFP had posted a new blog from her working vacation wherein she wrote:
i twittered for a piano and was graciously lent one by a nice man, @johnnydiggz. thanks, @johnnydiggz.
See? I am a nice man.
Because Amanda Fucking Palmer fucking said so.
Here’s some video I shot of AFP performing Creep (on a ukulele) with Vermillion Lies in Atlanta last year. You can hear me singing along, so TECHNICALLY, I think this qualifies as our first co-collaboration.

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A few weeks ago I was in the Guitar Center in Hollywood, jamming out on a Martin S-O Ukulele, when these two axehead asshats walked by, regarding me with mocking derision. One of them said to me in a high-pitched squeal, pinkies pointed, “Rock out, old man” while his friend laughed…