What a weekend. The temps have come down quite a bit from last week, to my chagrine needless to say, but aside from waking up to fog, the afternoon was quite pleasant. I headed out late in the day to look for Amy who was manning a booth at Pride, hoping to catch her at the end of her shift, but when I got to the general area where she said the booth would be, I found nothing. I hung around the Civic Center for a while, taking in the whole Pride thing, and enjoyed myself. I decided to avoid the parade because of the extent it has become commercialized and has taken on such a character of buying and selling, rather than a community celebration. What am I saying? I'm not gay. I mean rather than a celebratory event for a community.
My life would be so much easier if I were gay. I'd be such a hot piece of ass. After several discussions about it over the weekend, I've concluded that I'm attracted to the character of the gay community, but I'm not attracted to physical or emotional intimacy with other males. So I'm SOL. I'm a lesbian in a dude's body, what can I say?
Another reason I didn't get out until late in the day was because last night ended up pretty late with a birthday dinner for Amy. I met S*die and Bob for lunch yesterday in Noe Valley, and that went as expected. I was in Noe Valley to buy Amy a bunch of hideous San Francisco memorabilia since she's leaving soon. I got her matching San Francisco socks, trivet, pot holder, piggy bank, deck of cards, and I think that's all, all by the same artist. OK, it wasn't hideous, arguably tacky, hopefully funny.
Amy, Lisa and I met up for the Dyke March before heading over to Cha Cha Cha's in the Mission for dinner. It was a pretty large group, and I was starting to fade for some reason, but I managed. Afterwards we headed over to Elbo Room, which was OK I guess. I was still fading. After some "close" dancing with Lisa, the rest of them headed over to the Endup to continue, but since I was so close to home, I bailed. They were probably still dancing as I crawled my way into bed.
Things haven't felt like routine since I've gotten back from the East Coast, undoubtedly because of the record breaking temps we've had. This week, with temps back to normal, should feel more like routine, whether that's good or bad, I don't know. Holiday weekend coming up. I ran into my old college friend and ex-housemate Nobuko at the dyke march. She's apparently having drama with her girlfriend so I'd like to catch up with her real soon. And another of my best friends from Oberlin is flying in next weekend from Singapore for a conference and I'm planning to meet up with him by any means necessary. It's been over ten years since I've seen Pasha. We'll never be the friends we were in college, but I'm glad that I'll have a chance to see him at least once more.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
All I ever do is bitch about San Francisco weather.
After four rainy days on the East Coast, the sun came out on the fifth day, just in time to hang out with Meghan, drink beer, and soak in the Virginia is for lovers sun. On the sixth day, back in New Jersey, Summer arrove with humid 90 degree temps, a perfect day to go to New York, check out the Einstein exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History, and while away the rest of the evening with Rob and Keiko. Who doesn't love a warm evening to just walk around with good company? The next day was the same, but I was robbed as that was the day I left for San Francisco. The weather report stated pleasant day time highs in SF, but I was arriving at night so I braced myself for the chill that never came. I hopped on the BART at SFO, service to the airport just having started this past Sunday, and I emerged at 16th and Mission and all indications were that it was a mighty fine day in San Francisco. It was a mile walk from the BART station to my apartment.
Today was a nicely hot day, temps in the 80's. I went for a 45 mile ride in Marin, climbing the road to Mt. Tamalpais but not summiting, instead riding all the way out to the coast and back through Muir Woods. I must admit that the heat and my lack of riding these past few weeks made it a suffer and a struggle. When I got back to Sausalito, I scarfed down some fish and chips, and hopped on the ferry back to town. A near perfect day, aside from the suffer and struggling.
S*die decided last minute to come to the Buffalo Daughter/Blonde Redhead show with me and H*n. Both bands were excellent. I think I missed out on raves and electronica and X. But no, I remember that scene from the outside and there's no way I could have fit into it. I just fancy the music and letting go until the break of dawn. I was never that cool. Buffalo Daughter was pretty much electronica with live instruments, effects, samples, and a turntablist. The drummer was fun to watch, bopping his head in eighth notes, laying down simple, solid electronica grooves.
Blonde Redhead put on great performances. I love bands that move on stage. Music to me is just as physical as it is aural, and if a performer isn't showing me physically that they are into their own music, it's a bit of a downer. I'm not into the guy singer's voice, but Kazu Makino really delivered, and the drummer was all I expected and more - a great drummer.
It continued to be warm into the evening and it was nice being out with S*die and H*n. It's nice to go out on a warm evening and walk around with good company. Coming back to San Francisco with this weather is deceptive. It makes me feel that the rest of the Summer will be like this. It won't. In a few days, I'm sure the fog will be rolling in and who wants to go out and walk around wearing jackets and scarves in June, scurrying to the next indoor destination?
After four rainy days on the East Coast, the sun came out on the fifth day, just in time to hang out with Meghan, drink beer, and soak in the Virginia is for lovers sun. On the sixth day, back in New Jersey, Summer arrove with humid 90 degree temps, a perfect day to go to New York, check out the Einstein exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History, and while away the rest of the evening with Rob and Keiko. Who doesn't love a warm evening to just walk around with good company? The next day was the same, but I was robbed as that was the day I left for San Francisco. The weather report stated pleasant day time highs in SF, but I was arriving at night so I braced myself for the chill that never came. I hopped on the BART at SFO, service to the airport just having started this past Sunday, and I emerged at 16th and Mission and all indications were that it was a mighty fine day in San Francisco. It was a mile walk from the BART station to my apartment.
Today was a nicely hot day, temps in the 80's. I went for a 45 mile ride in Marin, climbing the road to Mt. Tamalpais but not summiting, instead riding all the way out to the coast and back through Muir Woods. I must admit that the heat and my lack of riding these past few weeks made it a suffer and a struggle. When I got back to Sausalito, I scarfed down some fish and chips, and hopped on the ferry back to town. A near perfect day, aside from the suffer and struggling.
S*die decided last minute to come to the Buffalo Daughter/Blonde Redhead show with me and H*n. Both bands were excellent. I think I missed out on raves and electronica and X. But no, I remember that scene from the outside and there's no way I could have fit into it. I just fancy the music and letting go until the break of dawn. I was never that cool. Buffalo Daughter was pretty much electronica with live instruments, effects, samples, and a turntablist. The drummer was fun to watch, bopping his head in eighth notes, laying down simple, solid electronica grooves.
Blonde Redhead put on great performances. I love bands that move on stage. Music to me is just as physical as it is aural, and if a performer isn't showing me physically that they are into their own music, it's a bit of a downer. I'm not into the guy singer's voice, but Kazu Makino really delivered, and the drummer was all I expected and more - a great drummer.
It continued to be warm into the evening and it was nice being out with S*die and H*n. It's nice to go out on a warm evening and walk around with good company. Coming back to San Francisco with this weather is deceptive. It makes me feel that the rest of the Summer will be like this. It won't. In a few days, I'm sure the fog will be rolling in and who wants to go out and walk around wearing jackets and scarves in June, scurrying to the next indoor destination?
Monday, June 23, 2003
What a weekend. My brother is married and off to the Cayman Islands for his honeymoon. His wife was stunning and very nervous, but it all went off without a hitch. It's been rainy and dreary, today was hot and summery, and tomorrow it's back to San Francisco having no more obligations, no need to be anywhere or do anything on the horizon. Just a plan in the coalescence to visit Portland and Seattle in July.
I drove down to Philadelphia on Friday for the last night of my brother's bachelordom. We went to a place called Capitol Grill and ate red meat, drank stiff drinks, and smoked cigars (I passed on the cigars), then went back to my brother's place and continued drinking single malt scotch until we crashed. I was actually the second to crash, reinforcing their erroneous perception that I'm a lightweight, and didn't try the single malt until the next morning. Single malt - I think I'm in love.
On Saturday my brother disappeared early to attend to wedding stuff and I was left with Rob and Gene to recover and overcome queasiness that was compounded by a veinte cup of coffee, the first cup of coffee that I'd had since Tuesday, which set my overblown head on trigger's edge ready to explode. A Cobb salad and a beer for lunch set things right, and then it was time for me to head back to the apartment to suit up in a tux and head off for the family pictures. Thrillsville. But really, it was all very harmless and I'm happy for my brother. They're a great couple, and I think his wife is the one.
I didn't have to do a toast for my brother, but I had one loosely prepared if my mother pushed me to say something since she had been hinting that I should. In attendance were some of my brother's high school friends, his closest college friends, and his more recent Philadelphia friends. I was going to point out these fellas and expound on the high caliber of people all of them were. I'd have to qualify that it was only my subjective opinion, I'm sure none of them would accept my assertion of what amazing people they are, they are of course far more aware of their faults and shortcomings than I am. I've mentioned this before, but I would have told how I haven't seen much of my brother over the past ten years. I could round off story after story from our upbringing to say something about his character and what he was to me as an older brother. From the past ten years, I have very little, but there is so much to be said about my brother's character from the friends that surround him and who have lasted through the years. I'm glad I wasn't pushed to do the toast, it would have been pretty lame. No one would have known what I was talking about.
But there was much drunkenness, much revelry, much catching up with these friends of my brother's, meeting up with even more of my brother's Philadelphia friends, all of whom hold him in unbelievably high esteem. One woman who is my age and has 3 kids including 18 year old twins, and believe me I'm not that old, dragged me out onto the dancefloor, and *whew* that was *ahem* hot. I was told she had a googly-eyed crush on my brother, despite being married with 3 kids, so I figured that she figured that the little brother was the next best thing. My superficial impression was that she was kinda halfway between my brother and me, having the intelligence and professional drive to be in the medical field to know and get close to my brother, but also having a foot in the alternative life, a bit unstable and fragile, and loving music (like Phil Collins' drumming) so that we could hit it off. In ways, she made my evening.
After all that it was just Rob and me at my brother's apartment and Rob crashed pretty fast. I finished watching "Spiderman" on DVD and likewise crashed. Rob left early the next morning for New York to meet up with his girlfriend and told me to call him when I got back to New Jersey. I got up shortly after, watched another DVD (King Crimson's "Deja Vroom" concert DVD), and headed down to DC as planned to meet up with Meghan. It's incredible how this was the third time we've met up face to face and it was just so comfortable, no needing to prove or hide anything in the face to face interaction. There's so much we don't know about each other in terms of the face to face, but it was like we could assume a lot about each other, and in the moment we could just assume it was right. If what we were assuming was wrong, we would just have to deal with it as it came up, but as it was it was open and free, and I am starting to take issue with all these people who seem to be out-drinking me!! Goddamit, I am an alcoholic, I swear!
But then the spontaneous decision to catch Peter Gabriel that night is what it's all about. "You know who's in town . . . " We both knew who was in town, and we both knew that we both knew who was in town. It was the first non rainy day in a while, certainly since I've been on the East Coast, and it was a gorgeous evening at the Nissan Pavillion to catch the concert. It is always worth it to catch Peter Gabriel, and I don't have anything to add to my review of the Shoreline show except that they had cleaned up a lot of the rough edges. He muffed a few lyrics, but not entire verses like he did at Shoreline. He got the bounce down during the "Growing Up" hamster ball sequence, and solved the problem of the limited space by rolling around in it more slowly than he did at Shoreline. He went out into the audience during "Solsbury Hill" which was pretty cool. I don't know why, but that song has been getting to me as of late.
I wanted to head back to New Jersey that night because I was supposed to meet Rob today. I left DC at 12:30 and the four hour drive back to New Jersey was a throw back to when I lived on the East Coast. I haven't been here in warmer weather in years, and I live for hot weather. There was a lot of evocation of embedded memories going on this past week. I tell myself none of it is real anymore.
I drove down to Philadelphia on Friday for the last night of my brother's bachelordom. We went to a place called Capitol Grill and ate red meat, drank stiff drinks, and smoked cigars (I passed on the cigars), then went back to my brother's place and continued drinking single malt scotch until we crashed. I was actually the second to crash, reinforcing their erroneous perception that I'm a lightweight, and didn't try the single malt until the next morning. Single malt - I think I'm in love.
On Saturday my brother disappeared early to attend to wedding stuff and I was left with Rob and Gene to recover and overcome queasiness that was compounded by a veinte cup of coffee, the first cup of coffee that I'd had since Tuesday, which set my overblown head on trigger's edge ready to explode. A Cobb salad and a beer for lunch set things right, and then it was time for me to head back to the apartment to suit up in a tux and head off for the family pictures. Thrillsville. But really, it was all very harmless and I'm happy for my brother. They're a great couple, and I think his wife is the one.
I didn't have to do a toast for my brother, but I had one loosely prepared if my mother pushed me to say something since she had been hinting that I should. In attendance were some of my brother's high school friends, his closest college friends, and his more recent Philadelphia friends. I was going to point out these fellas and expound on the high caliber of people all of them were. I'd have to qualify that it was only my subjective opinion, I'm sure none of them would accept my assertion of what amazing people they are, they are of course far more aware of their faults and shortcomings than I am. I've mentioned this before, but I would have told how I haven't seen much of my brother over the past ten years. I could round off story after story from our upbringing to say something about his character and what he was to me as an older brother. From the past ten years, I have very little, but there is so much to be said about my brother's character from the friends that surround him and who have lasted through the years. I'm glad I wasn't pushed to do the toast, it would have been pretty lame. No one would have known what I was talking about.
But there was much drunkenness, much revelry, much catching up with these friends of my brother's, meeting up with even more of my brother's Philadelphia friends, all of whom hold him in unbelievably high esteem. One woman who is my age and has 3 kids including 18 year old twins, and believe me I'm not that old, dragged me out onto the dancefloor, and *whew* that was *ahem* hot. I was told she had a googly-eyed crush on my brother, despite being married with 3 kids, so I figured that she figured that the little brother was the next best thing. My superficial impression was that she was kinda halfway between my brother and me, having the intelligence and professional drive to be in the medical field to know and get close to my brother, but also having a foot in the alternative life, a bit unstable and fragile, and loving music (like Phil Collins' drumming) so that we could hit it off. In ways, she made my evening.
After all that it was just Rob and me at my brother's apartment and Rob crashed pretty fast. I finished watching "Spiderman" on DVD and likewise crashed. Rob left early the next morning for New York to meet up with his girlfriend and told me to call him when I got back to New Jersey. I got up shortly after, watched another DVD (King Crimson's "Deja Vroom" concert DVD), and headed down to DC as planned to meet up with Meghan. It's incredible how this was the third time we've met up face to face and it was just so comfortable, no needing to prove or hide anything in the face to face interaction. There's so much we don't know about each other in terms of the face to face, but it was like we could assume a lot about each other, and in the moment we could just assume it was right. If what we were assuming was wrong, we would just have to deal with it as it came up, but as it was it was open and free, and I am starting to take issue with all these people who seem to be out-drinking me!! Goddamit, I am an alcoholic, I swear!
But then the spontaneous decision to catch Peter Gabriel that night is what it's all about. "You know who's in town . . . " We both knew who was in town, and we both knew that we both knew who was in town. It was the first non rainy day in a while, certainly since I've been on the East Coast, and it was a gorgeous evening at the Nissan Pavillion to catch the concert. It is always worth it to catch Peter Gabriel, and I don't have anything to add to my review of the Shoreline show except that they had cleaned up a lot of the rough edges. He muffed a few lyrics, but not entire verses like he did at Shoreline. He got the bounce down during the "Growing Up" hamster ball sequence, and solved the problem of the limited space by rolling around in it more slowly than he did at Shoreline. He went out into the audience during "Solsbury Hill" which was pretty cool. I don't know why, but that song has been getting to me as of late.
I wanted to head back to New Jersey that night because I was supposed to meet Rob today. I left DC at 12:30 and the four hour drive back to New Jersey was a throw back to when I lived on the East Coast. I haven't been here in warmer weather in years, and I live for hot weather. There was a lot of evocation of embedded memories going on this past week. I tell myself none of it is real anymore.
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
"Listen to the rain on the roof go pit-pitty-pat (pit-pitty-pat)
Sit kitty cat, we won't go home for hoouuurs!" (S. Sondheim)
It's raining in New Jersey and I love it. It's only San Francisco when it rains that I hate it. It's also after three in the morning, which is just after midnight PST, so that's not unusual. And the only thing they have in this house is Budweiser, blech! I guess I could sneak some of that Remy Martin Cognac and no one would notice, but hard liquor was never part of my experience in this house, and just doesn't feel right. Let's see if I'm saying that after a few more days of Bud, blech!
My anxiety about coming here disappeared soon after I left my apartment, when the prospect of being lifted out of the amniotic fog of complacent, comfortable home became exciting. My ghost does like to travel, it just hates the getting-motivated-to-leave-on-its-own-accord part. My flight was delayed again, but I guess 10 years of having good flying karma is running out. And lifted out of the fog I was. I took a bunch of aerial photos of San Francisco with the fog just burned off at the coast that I'll upload to an ofoto album after I get back home. I think Joyce also had similar shots from when she went to Chicago.
So I take it stuff has been happening around here. Apparently my oldest brother who works at my father's office has stopped coming here, maybe a forced expression of independence. Not even to do laundry! If that's not a declaration of independence, I don't know what is. And the other brother, the one getting married, is coming up from Philly tomorrow with his fiance, and the two families are going out to dinner. What the hell? Whatever. Usually his arm needs to be twisted for him to make an appearance and then he'll swoop in and swoop right back out as soon as possible. I think he's taking the wedding more seriously than he's led on, and tomorrow will be about making sure we're straight about our roles. And apparently they are going on a honeymoon after he gave the impression that they weren't and would later on. Dysfunction delight. Not that any of this bugs me. I'm so un-neurotic about this family that it's bordering on neurotic.
So my brother didn't pick me up from the airport and I haven't even seen him yet, so it's just been me and the 'rents. We were saved by a call from Liz, my last remaining high school friend, and I ran upstairs with the phone, and they ran off to their room. I've been rummaging through the rooms of the empty nest, getting twinges and echoes of meaningless memories that still somehow are able to sting. Someone left a crappy Spanish guitar that won't tune, but I sat in my closet and played several tunes because the closet sounds great, acoustically it's almost completely dead because of the wall of clothes my mother has packed all of our closets with since we left, some of them still having price tags!
I finally settled on listening to my childhood LPs to see what they evoked, not only the material, but the LP medium, albums that were recorded for LP, not CD. Wings' "Venus and Mars"; Phil Collins' "Hello, I Must Be Going". I even did the proverbial ransacking of my older brother's record collection, embarrassing since I'm supposed to be the musically in tune one. Not in high school! While I was listening to prog and suburban white boy rock, he was listening to the stuff I "should" have been listening to. Siouxie and the Banshees, Echo and the Bunnymen, the Stranglers, the Replacements. Christ, da bastard has Throwing Muses' "The Fat Skier" EP on vinyl. You can't even find it on CD (I don't know if it ever was released on CD). For 80's college rock, my brother had serious cred in his collection.
But! In my collection, I have Japanese pressings of the first two Peter Gabriel albums that Shiho Nakai sent to me after she returned to Japan after Junior year. Japanese and German presses were reputed to be far superior to U.S. and U.K. pressings. Acts of love that I ignored until it was too late.
Sit kitty cat, we won't go home for hoouuurs!" (S. Sondheim)
It's raining in New Jersey and I love it. It's only San Francisco when it rains that I hate it. It's also after three in the morning, which is just after midnight PST, so that's not unusual. And the only thing they have in this house is Budweiser, blech! I guess I could sneak some of that Remy Martin Cognac and no one would notice, but hard liquor was never part of my experience in this house, and just doesn't feel right. Let's see if I'm saying that after a few more days of Bud, blech!
My anxiety about coming here disappeared soon after I left my apartment, when the prospect of being lifted out of the amniotic fog of complacent, comfortable home became exciting. My ghost does like to travel, it just hates the getting-motivated-to-leave-on-its-own-accord part. My flight was delayed again, but I guess 10 years of having good flying karma is running out. And lifted out of the fog I was. I took a bunch of aerial photos of San Francisco with the fog just burned off at the coast that I'll upload to an ofoto album after I get back home. I think Joyce also had similar shots from when she went to Chicago.
So I take it stuff has been happening around here. Apparently my oldest brother who works at my father's office has stopped coming here, maybe a forced expression of independence. Not even to do laundry! If that's not a declaration of independence, I don't know what is. And the other brother, the one getting married, is coming up from Philly tomorrow with his fiance, and the two families are going out to dinner. What the hell? Whatever. Usually his arm needs to be twisted for him to make an appearance and then he'll swoop in and swoop right back out as soon as possible. I think he's taking the wedding more seriously than he's led on, and tomorrow will be about making sure we're straight about our roles. And apparently they are going on a honeymoon after he gave the impression that they weren't and would later on. Dysfunction delight. Not that any of this bugs me. I'm so un-neurotic about this family that it's bordering on neurotic.
So my brother didn't pick me up from the airport and I haven't even seen him yet, so it's just been me and the 'rents. We were saved by a call from Liz, my last remaining high school friend, and I ran upstairs with the phone, and they ran off to their room. I've been rummaging through the rooms of the empty nest, getting twinges and echoes of meaningless memories that still somehow are able to sting. Someone left a crappy Spanish guitar that won't tune, but I sat in my closet and played several tunes because the closet sounds great, acoustically it's almost completely dead because of the wall of clothes my mother has packed all of our closets with since we left, some of them still having price tags!
I finally settled on listening to my childhood LPs to see what they evoked, not only the material, but the LP medium, albums that were recorded for LP, not CD. Wings' "Venus and Mars"; Phil Collins' "Hello, I Must Be Going". I even did the proverbial ransacking of my older brother's record collection, embarrassing since I'm supposed to be the musically in tune one. Not in high school! While I was listening to prog and suburban white boy rock, he was listening to the stuff I "should" have been listening to. Siouxie and the Banshees, Echo and the Bunnymen, the Stranglers, the Replacements. Christ, da bastard has Throwing Muses' "The Fat Skier" EP on vinyl. You can't even find it on CD (I don't know if it ever was released on CD). For 80's college rock, my brother had serious cred in his collection.
But! In my collection, I have Japanese pressings of the first two Peter Gabriel albums that Shiho Nakai sent to me after she returned to Japan after Junior year. Japanese and German presses were reputed to be far superior to U.S. and U.K. pressings. Acts of love that I ignored until it was too late.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
OK, mild anxiety settles in about going to New Jersey for a whole week. I have not begun to pack. I'm taking as little as possible, make this as low maintenance a trip as possible. I want to squeeze my eyes real hard tomorrow, and when I open them, I want it to be one week later. Oh, but I'm remembering to take my hi-hats so I can set up my old crappy college drumset and go mad wild like I haven't been able to since I was last in a band over a year ago.
Juxtaposed with this "going to New Jersey" thing is having met up with Joyce and Elizabeth, fresh from Chicago, this evening. Always fun meeting up with them, and even though Elizabeth no longer lives here, the experience did give San Francisco the sheen of "home" in comparison to New Jersey. Ten years, I know San Francisco, it's mine, I know the Bay Area. But I'm not its. And I'm adamant about leaving it. Adam Ant? OMG, I just got that!!
Now I'll never be able to say "adamant" again. I'll always say "Adam Ant". Believe me, I know me. Crikey.
Tomorrow's supposed to be a nice day as I fly out of San Francisco. Leaving Elizabeth for her few days more here as she revisits friends and stomping grounds, hopefully not, um, murdering any petite Japanese chicks who done married her stupid-ass ex. Leaving the reminiscence of a rare gorgeous weekend, having met Lisa and Amy for a show Saturday night, having missed Amy by probably mere meters on Sunday for an afternoon to be spent in Golden Gate Park. And if I moved to Tucson? Why would I ever leave?
Juxtaposed with this "going to New Jersey" thing is having met up with Joyce and Elizabeth, fresh from Chicago, this evening. Always fun meeting up with them, and even though Elizabeth no longer lives here, the experience did give San Francisco the sheen of "home" in comparison to New Jersey. Ten years, I know San Francisco, it's mine, I know the Bay Area. But I'm not its. And I'm adamant about leaving it. Adam Ant? OMG, I just got that!!
Now I'll never be able to say "adamant" again. I'll always say "Adam Ant". Believe me, I know me. Crikey.
Tomorrow's supposed to be a nice day as I fly out of San Francisco. Leaving Elizabeth for her few days more here as she revisits friends and stomping grounds, hopefully not, um, murdering any petite Japanese chicks who done married her stupid-ass ex. Leaving the reminiscence of a rare gorgeous weekend, having met Lisa and Amy for a show Saturday night, having missed Amy by probably mere meters on Sunday for an afternoon to be spent in Golden Gate Park. And if I moved to Tucson? Why would I ever leave?
Sunday, June 15, 2003
I'm so not looking forward to heading east on Tuesday for my brother's wedding, but I'm prepared to have a good 'tude about it and make the best of it. I'm not one to rock the boat anymore when I go there anyway. This will be the longest time I've spent there in years, but it's also the first time I've gone there in warmer weather, so at least I can get out and do stuff, go to New York. I haven't seen the only person left that I know from high school, Liz, in several years, I think I'll give her a call this time. *There*, I just sent her an email.
Just get myself into a good space . . . .oooooommmmmm . . . ooooooommmmmmm.
Just get myself into a good space . . . .oooooommmmmm . . . ooooooommmmmmm.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Bleah, why is it that I get more wasted drinking less at a bar than drinking more when I'm at home? Actually, it didn't occur to me that Beale St. got a little out of hand until I got home. And that's after heading to Edinburgh Castle, where I didn't drink any more, and then getting a burrito (<Cartman>I'm hungry! Do you understand?! Necessiiiito un burriiiito!< /Cartman>). I guess it was because I was planning on going to Edinburgh Castle that I stayed at Beale St. longer than usual. Oh, my aching head. I also probably should have eaten sooner than I did.
And not helping, mind you, Mountain Dew "LiveWire" is friggin' gross!! It's only available the summer of 2003. That stuff would make it a long ass summer! Remember those plastic tubes filled with flavored sugar water that you stick in the freezer, and when you were a kid they made a refreshing summer cooler? You'd squeeze the frozen sugar water into your mouth and it was oh so good. Well, take a tube of the orange flavor, pour it into a can of Mountain Dew, and there you go.
So the band I went to see at Edinburgh Castle, I knew from Fiction days when I played drums, so they only knew me as a drummer. But Denise, who has stayed in touch with them, recommended me as a bassist if they need a bass sub for the summer. Their regular bassist is going to need surgery, but the surgery got put off until August. I didn't mention that I planned to leave San Francisco soon after that, but I did get a free CD!
A wise man once said, "It's all about the freebies".
And not helping, mind you, Mountain Dew "LiveWire" is friggin' gross!! It's only available the summer of 2003. That stuff would make it a long ass summer! Remember those plastic tubes filled with flavored sugar water that you stick in the freezer, and when you were a kid they made a refreshing summer cooler? You'd squeeze the frozen sugar water into your mouth and it was oh so good. Well, take a tube of the orange flavor, pour it into a can of Mountain Dew, and there you go.
So the band I went to see at Edinburgh Castle, I knew from Fiction days when I played drums, so they only knew me as a drummer. But Denise, who has stayed in touch with them, recommended me as a bassist if they need a bass sub for the summer. Their regular bassist is going to need surgery, but the surgery got put off until August. I didn't mention that I planned to leave San Francisco soon after that, but I did get a free CD!
A wise man once said, "It's all about the freebies".
Thursday, June 12, 2003
When the forecast is 3000' fog banks and no chance of it burning off, what do I care what time I go to sleep or what time I wake up. It's all a big blur. It's so bad that when I wake up, I think first thing I'll do is jump in my car and head to the beach and soak in the grey depressingness. Take some music, take a notebook, maybe take my shakuhachi. Maybe I'll start doing this first thing every morning, er, afternoon.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
I made it out today for a 20 mile ride. The key was to not get suited up for shorter city rides. It's psychological. Short ride, why look like a dork? OK, I wasn't going to mention this, but last week when I was trying to get my ass in gear to go for a ride, I was trying to figure out something to do as motivation. I can't spend any more money on cycling gear, so that removed a whole range of options right there. So what other low-cost things do cyclists do? They shave their legs. So I did. It was a mental thing, "I'm gonna do this as encouragement to get out of the house and ride". So, um, what do you all think about guys who shave their legs? I'm just curious.
Hey, don't touch that mouse, I'm going somewhere with this. As for reasons cyclists shave their legs, I often hear that it lessens wind resistance so you don't tire out as quickly. I always thought that a pretty dumb reason for a hobbyist to shave his (or her) legs. My brother rode seriously in high school and college and was on racing teams, and he said that he shaved his legs because if you take a spill, it's a lot less painful to dress. But I don't race, and all the times I've gone down has been during regular city riding, never on a "ride".
Well, guess what I did today, yes, I fell off my bike (from a practically stand-still position, mind you, I basically just fell over, not clicking out fast enough, uncredibly stupid). I scraped my knee, and suffered my way home, more from embarassment than the scrape, and dressing it was clean and relatively painless! It was pretty affirming. Not that I'm gonna go out hoping that I'm gonna take a spill. It's just a precaution. Like . . . wearing a helmet.
Hey, don't touch that mouse, I'm going somewhere with this. As for reasons cyclists shave their legs, I often hear that it lessens wind resistance so you don't tire out as quickly. I always thought that a pretty dumb reason for a hobbyist to shave his (or her) legs. My brother rode seriously in high school and college and was on racing teams, and he said that he shaved his legs because if you take a spill, it's a lot less painful to dress. But I don't race, and all the times I've gone down has been during regular city riding, never on a "ride".
Well, guess what I did today, yes, I fell off my bike (from a practically stand-still position, mind you, I basically just fell over, not clicking out fast enough, uncredibly stupid). I scraped my knee, and suffered my way home, more from embarassment than the scrape, and dressing it was clean and relatively painless! It was pretty affirming. Not that I'm gonna go out hoping that I'm gonna take a spill. It's just a precaution. Like . . . wearing a helmet.
Tony Levin is once again keeping a road diary of the Peter Gabriel tour. I'm actually in the audience photo that he took from that stage. That would be me, right under the light tower on the left hand side of the photo.
Why bands refer to Shoreline shows as "San Francisco" is beyond me. Mountainview is hardly "San Francisco".
Why bands refer to Shoreline shows as "San Francisco" is beyond me. Mountainview is hardly "San Francisco".
My body hates me. I haven't been running or riding lately, even though my muscles and lungs have been itching for strain and activity. I even got completely suited up to ride today, stood by my bike by the window for about 10 minutes, letting the afternoon sun warm me through the blinds, and in the end I changed out and didn't go. I blamed it on the weather, even when the fog burns off, it's breezy and chilly. It's June, and it already feels like July! I gotta get out of this city. But really, I'm just being lazy. Laziness, it'll be the death of me. It'll be the death of us all. Sorry, there's nothing like feeling dramatic at 3 in the morning. Maybe I should start smoking. And going on long walks at three in the morning.
Saturday, June 07, 2003
Peter Gabriel set list, Shoreline Amphitheater:
1) Red Rain
2) More Than This
3) Secret World
4) Games Without Frontiers
5) Mercy Street
6) Darkness
7) Digging in the Dirt
8) Don't Give Up
9) The Tower
10) Growing Up
11) Shock the Monkey
- happy birthday for Tony Levin -
12) Solsbury Hill
13) Sledgehammer
14) Signal to Noise
15) In Your Eyes
16) Come Talk to Me
17) Father and Son
It was an amazing show! There were mistakes a-plenty, it being the first show of this leg of the tour, missed cues, forgotten lyrics, mostly by Gabriel himself; the band was spot on. Even Ged Lynch on drums was powerful and driving. He didn't impress me in December at the Oakland Colissuem, but tonight he was incredible. The energy was great and it was a lot of fun, even from the lawn seating.
The surprise was, of course, "Games Without Frontiers", although he did it closer to the album version, not the "Red Army" march version of it that he did in the 80's, which was more forceful and anti-militant by being militant. Daughter Melanie Gabriel did a noble job making "Don't Give Up" her own; Kate Bush and Paula Cole doing the part are hard acts to follow. She had trouble on some of the hard notes, proving that singing is pretty damn hard. Melanie also had to get daddy back to the right lyrics during Sledgehammer - he couldn't even fake that one since she was singing backup.
He did bring out the hamster ball for "Growing Up", but wasn't quite able to get the bounce thing going. It looked like the front rows knew about it, because everytime he and the band started the bounce thing, the front rows all started bouncing, too, but every time he tried to get it going, he only managed three or four bounces and then gave up or risk getting everyone off the beat. I'm sure he'll get it going after several shows. It was the most memorable thing from the Oakland show. Of course in Oakland, he used a circular stage and could chase band members around the stage and use the momemtum for the bouncing. At the Shoreline, it only took a few rolls to get from one end of the stage to the other, so there was a lot of reversing direction and it was impossible to get any momentum.
He brought along the telephone booth for "Come Talk To Me" (reference to the "Secret World Live" DVD, or any lucky dog, *ahem*, who may have been fortunate enough to have actually seen that show!). I wondered if it was weird or satisfying to sing that to Melanie, playing the Paula Cole part, since the song was written for Melanie. I read somewhere that during Gabriel's divorce, communications also broke down with Melanie, leading to that song. I'm pretty sure it was Melanie, I don't think it was Anne (I know way too much about Peter Gabriel without stalking him).
People complain about the lawn seating at Shoreline, but it was fine. If you've ever been to a stadium show, the view from the Shoreline's lawn seating is pretty standard. It would have been nice to have been closer, but at $100 a pop, fuggedaboutit. It was a gorgeous night, and I really appreciated it during "Signal to Noise" when I was able to lay back and stare at the stars. Gabriel introduced "Signal to Noise" comparing the USA today to the former imperialist United Kingdom. Half the audience applauded, half didn't.
It was a weird scene knowing that Peter Gabriel has been dedicated to promoting human rights for over 20 years, and the aged audience has enjoyed his music for over 20 years and accepted his human rights politics. Apartheid bad. But once Peter Gabriel turns his conscience on the ol' U.S. of A.? All of a sudden his politics are not credible enough to support. We can't support Peter Gabriel criticizing American foreign policy! We just won a friggin' war, for chrissake!
1) Red Rain
2) More Than This
3) Secret World
4) Games Without Frontiers
5) Mercy Street
6) Darkness
7) Digging in the Dirt
8) Don't Give Up
9) The Tower
10) Growing Up
11) Shock the Monkey
- happy birthday for Tony Levin -
12) Solsbury Hill
13) Sledgehammer
14) Signal to Noise
15) In Your Eyes
16) Come Talk to Me
17) Father and Son
It was an amazing show! There were mistakes a-plenty, it being the first show of this leg of the tour, missed cues, forgotten lyrics, mostly by Gabriel himself; the band was spot on. Even Ged Lynch on drums was powerful and driving. He didn't impress me in December at the Oakland Colissuem, but tonight he was incredible. The energy was great and it was a lot of fun, even from the lawn seating.
The surprise was, of course, "Games Without Frontiers", although he did it closer to the album version, not the "Red Army" march version of it that he did in the 80's, which was more forceful and anti-militant by being militant. Daughter Melanie Gabriel did a noble job making "Don't Give Up" her own; Kate Bush and Paula Cole doing the part are hard acts to follow. She had trouble on some of the hard notes, proving that singing is pretty damn hard. Melanie also had to get daddy back to the right lyrics during Sledgehammer - he couldn't even fake that one since she was singing backup.
He did bring out the hamster ball for "Growing Up", but wasn't quite able to get the bounce thing going. It looked like the front rows knew about it, because everytime he and the band started the bounce thing, the front rows all started bouncing, too, but every time he tried to get it going, he only managed three or four bounces and then gave up or risk getting everyone off the beat. I'm sure he'll get it going after several shows. It was the most memorable thing from the Oakland show. Of course in Oakland, he used a circular stage and could chase band members around the stage and use the momemtum for the bouncing. At the Shoreline, it only took a few rolls to get from one end of the stage to the other, so there was a lot of reversing direction and it was impossible to get any momentum.
He brought along the telephone booth for "Come Talk To Me" (reference to the "Secret World Live" DVD, or any lucky dog, *ahem*, who may have been fortunate enough to have actually seen that show!). I wondered if it was weird or satisfying to sing that to Melanie, playing the Paula Cole part, since the song was written for Melanie. I read somewhere that during Gabriel's divorce, communications also broke down with Melanie, leading to that song. I'm pretty sure it was Melanie, I don't think it was Anne (I know way too much about Peter Gabriel without stalking him).
People complain about the lawn seating at Shoreline, but it was fine. If you've ever been to a stadium show, the view from the Shoreline's lawn seating is pretty standard. It would have been nice to have been closer, but at $100 a pop, fuggedaboutit. It was a gorgeous night, and I really appreciated it during "Signal to Noise" when I was able to lay back and stare at the stars. Gabriel introduced "Signal to Noise" comparing the USA today to the former imperialist United Kingdom. Half the audience applauded, half didn't.
It was a weird scene knowing that Peter Gabriel has been dedicated to promoting human rights for over 20 years, and the aged audience has enjoyed his music for over 20 years and accepted his human rights politics. Apartheid bad. But once Peter Gabriel turns his conscience on the ol' U.S. of A.? All of a sudden his politics are not credible enough to support. We can't support Peter Gabriel criticizing American foreign policy! We just won a friggin' war, for chrissake!
Friday, June 06, 2003
Huh, wha . . .? I logged on to post my review, which I finally submitted, and there it already is! Oh, no wonder, that was after 4 in the morning after my brain already logged off. Nice.
The nice thing about writing for a free local zine is that you don't have to prove that you're some authority on the subject matter, slinging analysis and comparisons and dropping band names like bread to pigeons. It can be a personal, subjective, "well, I got too late to see the opening act, and the audience for the second act were a bunch of tweakers . . . " Bay Area Buzz is down home and homey, people writing about their impressions, what happened, what they saw, what the scene really looks like. That's why I can get away with saying very few people really like Sebadoh. I have no idea if no one likes Sebadoh, or if Sebadoh fans wouldn't even recognize Jason Loewenstein's name on the marquee, but where were the Sebadoh fans that night? I felt justified without doing the market (web) research to back up my claims.
The nice thing about writing for a free local zine is that you don't have to prove that you're some authority on the subject matter, slinging analysis and comparisons and dropping band names like bread to pigeons. It can be a personal, subjective, "well, I got too late to see the opening act, and the audience for the second act were a bunch of tweakers . . . " Bay Area Buzz is down home and homey, people writing about their impressions, what happened, what they saw, what the scene really looks like. That's why I can get away with saying very few people really like Sebadoh. I have no idea if no one likes Sebadoh, or if Sebadoh fans wouldn't even recognize Jason Loewenstein's name on the marquee, but where were the Sebadoh fans that night? I felt justified without doing the market (web) research to back up my claims.
draft:
Versus, +/-, and Jason Loewenstein at Great American Music Hall, April 20, 2003
Ever since Versus didn’t announce their break-up in 2001, the band has been sporadically re-grouping to play shows and to tour. This is despite front-man Richard Baluyut’s defection from New York City, home of Versus, to San Francisco to continue his prior side project, Whysall Lane, as a full band. This is also despite the immersion of bassist-vocalist Fontaine Toups into her own solo project, TFT (formerly The Fontaine Toups), and guitarist James Baluyut and drummer Patrick Ramos into their new band, +/- (plus minus), which has already released a self-titled, long-playing debut album, cryptically entitled Self-Titled Long-Playing Debut Album (Teen Beat).
For the past 10 years, Versus has released a handful of albums and EPs, crafting numerous powerful and memorable indie-pop gems in the process, but having never gained the crossover acclaim they probably deserve. Instead, Versus has maintained a hardcore devoted following, still willing to support them after almost three years without releasing an album, since 2000’s Hurrah (Merge Records). The devoted filled a little more than half of Great American Music Hall’s capacity.
It must be hard for opening act Jason Loewenstein to have been in the early-90s, lo-fi indie band, Sebadoh, who everyone has heard of, but very few really like, and then tour in support of a debut solo album when not many people, even Sebadoh fans, recognize your name. So it is no surprise, albeit an unfortunate one, that the crowd was sparse for Loewenstein’s opening set. The multi-talented Loewenstein put together a power trio to perform songs off At Sixes and Sevens (Subpop), recorded entirely by himself. They tore through their set in a energetic frenzy, and maybe because of the lack of bodies to absorb the sound, they were quite loud, which in turn contributed to the distance between performers and audience.
Not being a fan of Sebadoh, and not familiar with Loewenstein’s album, I can’t say I was impressed, but it was clear that Loewenstein had talent and experience, and having listened to At Sixes and Sevens since the show, I think I would have appreciated his performance more if I had been familiar with the material beforehand.
Next up was +/- in support of their new 5-song EP, Holding Patterns (Teen Beat). The love was there for +/-, the audience being comprised of Versus fans, as they made their way through a quirky, poppy, artsy set, with almost half the songs in odd time signatures, and James Baluyut occasionally strumming the strings of his guitar on the other side of his fretting hand. Interactive band support came in the form of the bass player dampening the drummer’s crash cymbals at the appropriate moments during one song.
Finally, Versus took the stage, delighting the crowd with the full six minutes plus version of “Crazy Maker (I’m Still in Love with Your Eyes)”, perhaps referencing last year’s NoisePop performance when they opened with a truncated, mellow version of the same song. The less-than-capacity crowd did their best to represent Richard Baluyut’s adopted city, but the energy between the band and the audience was hit-and-miss as the band dished out favorites such as “Raining”, “Jealous”, “Underground”, “Morning Glory”, and “Double Suicide (Mercy Killing)”, interspersed with more obscure gems as Fontaine Toups’ “Janet” and “Forest Fire”. In a poignant moment, Richard dedicated “Blade of Grass” to recently deceased friend and comrade, Steven Pak.
Versus sounded great in the Great American Music Hall, with Richard Baluyut’s power chords reverberating through the balcony-lined hall, and Patrick Ramos’s solid, driving drumming, and James Baluyut consistently putting the sweet icing on Richard’s cake. But the Great American Music Hall may have been too big a venue for Versus to connect with their audience. If they had the audience they deserve, it would have been just right.
Versus, +/-, and Jason Loewenstein at Great American Music Hall, April 20, 2003
Ever since Versus didn’t announce their break-up in 2001, the band has been sporadically re-grouping to play shows and to tour. This is despite front-man Richard Baluyut’s defection from New York City, home of Versus, to San Francisco to continue his prior side project, Whysall Lane, as a full band. This is also despite the immersion of bassist-vocalist Fontaine Toups into her own solo project, TFT (formerly The Fontaine Toups), and guitarist James Baluyut and drummer Patrick Ramos into their new band, +/- (plus minus), which has already released a self-titled, long-playing debut album, cryptically entitled Self-Titled Long-Playing Debut Album (Teen Beat).
For the past 10 years, Versus has released a handful of albums and EPs, crafting numerous powerful and memorable indie-pop gems in the process, but having never gained the crossover acclaim they probably deserve. Instead, Versus has maintained a hardcore devoted following, still willing to support them after almost three years without releasing an album, since 2000’s Hurrah (Merge Records). The devoted filled a little more than half of Great American Music Hall’s capacity.
It must be hard for opening act Jason Loewenstein to have been in the early-90s, lo-fi indie band, Sebadoh, who everyone has heard of, but very few really like, and then tour in support of a debut solo album when not many people, even Sebadoh fans, recognize your name. So it is no surprise, albeit an unfortunate one, that the crowd was sparse for Loewenstein’s opening set. The multi-talented Loewenstein put together a power trio to perform songs off At Sixes and Sevens (Subpop), recorded entirely by himself. They tore through their set in a energetic frenzy, and maybe because of the lack of bodies to absorb the sound, they were quite loud, which in turn contributed to the distance between performers and audience.
Not being a fan of Sebadoh, and not familiar with Loewenstein’s album, I can’t say I was impressed, but it was clear that Loewenstein had talent and experience, and having listened to At Sixes and Sevens since the show, I think I would have appreciated his performance more if I had been familiar with the material beforehand.
Next up was +/- in support of their new 5-song EP, Holding Patterns (Teen Beat). The love was there for +/-, the audience being comprised of Versus fans, as they made their way through a quirky, poppy, artsy set, with almost half the songs in odd time signatures, and James Baluyut occasionally strumming the strings of his guitar on the other side of his fretting hand. Interactive band support came in the form of the bass player dampening the drummer’s crash cymbals at the appropriate moments during one song.
Finally, Versus took the stage, delighting the crowd with the full six minutes plus version of “Crazy Maker (I’m Still in Love with Your Eyes)”, perhaps referencing last year’s NoisePop performance when they opened with a truncated, mellow version of the same song. The less-than-capacity crowd did their best to represent Richard Baluyut’s adopted city, but the energy between the band and the audience was hit-and-miss as the band dished out favorites such as “Raining”, “Jealous”, “Underground”, “Morning Glory”, and “Double Suicide (Mercy Killing)”, interspersed with more obscure gems as Fontaine Toups’ “Janet” and “Forest Fire”. In a poignant moment, Richard dedicated “Blade of Grass” to recently deceased friend and comrade, Steven Pak.
Versus sounded great in the Great American Music Hall, with Richard Baluyut’s power chords reverberating through the balcony-lined hall, and Patrick Ramos’s solid, driving drumming, and James Baluyut consistently putting the sweet icing on Richard’s cake. But the Great American Music Hall may have been too big a venue for Versus to connect with their audience. If they had the audience they deserve, it would have been just right.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Crap, I just got reminded that I have to submit a live review of the Versus, +/-, Jason Loewenstein show in April for Bay Area Buzz by tomorrow. Jason Loewenstein a member of Sebadoh, about whom I know nothing, and any review of Jason Loewenstein without mentioning or comparing his solo material with Sebadoh would be seriously remiss. Remiss this review is going to have to be. I don't know anyone who was into Sebadoh.
I abandoned riding up to Marin today because the fog didn't look like it was burning off coastside. It barely burned off in the Mission and it came right back in. Bleah. For the past two days I've been trying to complete lyrics for a two and a half minute ditty, for which I've recorded the basic tracks. It has taken on the feel of writing a paper! I hated writing papers. I have sources spread out, along with notebooks filled with chicken scratching, and I'm letting music DVDs run on the telly in the background, partly as distraction, partly to not get absorbed in trying too hard. But it's all the same diversionary, procrastinatory tactics I used to use when writing papers. But, I tell myself, I have to do this. It's short, two verses and a chorus, maybe a tag chorus section. I can't spend too much time on this and I need to start working on other ideas. I conditioned allowing myself to complete this material with the assumption that I never play this stuff for anyone. So it's only about satisfying myself, I'm not trying to say or communicate anything, it can be cryptic as hell. That makes it both easier and harder for different reasons.
And I will do that Bay Area Buzz review.
I abandoned riding up to Marin today because the fog didn't look like it was burning off coastside. It barely burned off in the Mission and it came right back in. Bleah. For the past two days I've been trying to complete lyrics for a two and a half minute ditty, for which I've recorded the basic tracks. It has taken on the feel of writing a paper! I hated writing papers. I have sources spread out, along with notebooks filled with chicken scratching, and I'm letting music DVDs run on the telly in the background, partly as distraction, partly to not get absorbed in trying too hard. But it's all the same diversionary, procrastinatory tactics I used to use when writing papers. But, I tell myself, I have to do this. It's short, two verses and a chorus, maybe a tag chorus section. I can't spend too much time on this and I need to start working on other ideas. I conditioned allowing myself to complete this material with the assumption that I never play this stuff for anyone. So it's only about satisfying myself, I'm not trying to say or communicate anything, it can be cryptic as hell. That makes it both easier and harder for different reasons.
And I will do that Bay Area Buzz review.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
So unless Cass comes back from Canada and issues a Call to Beale St., I may be on another run of not seeing anyone for a while, maybe until I head for New Jersey on the 17th. Arguably it's a run of avoiding people, as the dynamics with the people I've been hanging out with have changed for the avoidable.
Fotolog gets the big shaft. If you don't pay, they now restrict you to one upload per day, down from six uploads per day last week, down from unlimited uploads per day prior to that. Granted, it's a free service, they can do whatever they want, and photos take up a lot of space. But when YACCS ran out of server space, they temporarily stopped accepting new accounts. When Blogger started its Pro accounts, you could opt to pay more to get upgraded service. Neither YACCS or Blogger started restricting what they had already been offering for free the way Fotolog is doing. BUT if you give them money, they put a little gold camera next to your name. Isn't that special. And if you don't give them money, you're a cheap-ass tightwad whose pictures aren't worth viewing anyway.
Fotolog gets the big shaft. If you don't pay, they now restrict you to one upload per day, down from six uploads per day last week, down from unlimited uploads per day prior to that. Granted, it's a free service, they can do whatever they want, and photos take up a lot of space. But when YACCS ran out of server space, they temporarily stopped accepting new accounts. When Blogger started its Pro accounts, you could opt to pay more to get upgraded service. Neither YACCS or Blogger started restricting what they had already been offering for free the way Fotolog is doing. BUT if you give them money, they put a little gold camera next to your name. Isn't that special. And if you don't give them money, you're a cheap-ass tightwad whose pictures aren't worth viewing anyway.
