Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Location: Still at Victrola, so dissapointed in the last post that I decided to make yet another , more dissapointing post just 20 minutes later.
9:07 pm. Sitting by the large open fron window here, it is getting chilly, the crowd keeps slowly shuffling and re-shuffling, I wish cafes didn't make me so anxious. Like, do people go sit alone in bars and drink and read comics? No- but they come alone to cafes and sit alone crunching away on laptops (sometimes even in groups) but the irony of having a social setting mainly filled with people enganged in a completely anti-social activity (being glued to a screen, that is) is pretty wild. I wish I watched television. But, like dessert, it never occurs to me to parttake (unless it is right there in front of me). Like opening the mail as well... Opening the mail just makes more of a mess, more paper, more demands from outside forces. Still haven't paid the phone bill from the old apt.
Points of interest:
Old couple (60's) across the street embracing, making out.
Car drives by decorated like a Transformer with the Optimus Prime logos in all the right places.
I get a refill of iced coffee- I never drink this stuff, and it is getting pretty chilly.
An elderly woman takes 10 minutes to parallel park in a spot large enough for 2 1/2 automobiles.
Sasquatch!: WHere we were over the weekend. 'twas a
much quicker drive than expected, we showed-up set-up camp amongst the frat-wierdness, after a great deal of wheeling and dealing, phoning and such J. picked up her Ben Harper backstagepasses and we entered-, worked our way down to right in front of the stage for Neko Case, 10 minutes into the set it begins to rain, then hail- which is cute, I was catching the hail and putting the ice chunks into my $8.75 24 oz. can of Coors Light crap-ola beer. A few minutes later the hail becomes half the size of yor average ice-cube and it HURTS. We band together under my navy-issue jacket but it isn't enough. Freahishly the entire crowd is at the mercy of the weather and the band stops and all is still, people huddled togheter for protection and warmth. Someone pulled out a blue plastic tarp and we gathered under it like sardines. I've honestly never been so close to so many people, and all were in a good mood somehow, as if we were all resigned to the fact that "we're all in this toghter" while the elements beat the shit out of us. The hail went on for at least a half hour. Some saw fit to hotbox the tarp, which was pretty entertaining considering there were all ages of people from 15-50 under it who didn't have much choise (nor seem to care) that they were second-handedly inhanlingsome mexican guy's blunt smoke.
This all died down eventually and the staff took another hour to clear/mop the stage for "The Tragically Hip" who I wasn't familiar with but the crowd suddenly became packed with primarily Canadian people- chanting "Oilers" and wearing "Tragically Hip" hockey Jerseys (%%*??) and as one girl declared "The Hip are an institution. They're very dear to us." Who knew? The aging band was - well, really odd. Skinny bald guy (who couldn've been described more easily and made more sense if I'd seen him as a cubicle monkey rather than a rock star) was perhaps the most unusual lead singer I've ever seen. He had a painted childish tantrum-face on all the while while singing, and spastically spouted very random commentary, at one point noting "the microphone doesn't produce creative content, I DO, I don't even know why I'm calling it a 'he'" yea- and all the while the Canadians were loving it. I literally took a nap standing up in the crowd-- Or passed-out? after so much beer and freezing cold/wind/ice storm I think my entire body just shut down, slumping on J. and those around me. Those big,stable healthy-looking canadian "Hip" fans....
In very desparate need of dry cloting we shopped every merch booth in the venue searching in vain for SOMETHING dry and halfway BUYable- but all the hoodies and shirts worth buying had been purchased already, I assume as soon as all the bikini-top and daisy duke sorority girls realized that they might DIE if they didn't but a t-shirt and hoodie... bastards bought all the Beck shirts, though. Not that I need a Beck shirt, I still have Troys from 1997 tht I never wear... I was even seriously considering buying an XL "Rogue Wave" t-shirt (even though I'd never heard of them) just so I could put it on and halt the convulsive shivers. One track mind=equaling= "cold... co-cold. cold. cold. brrr." Giving up on the hopeless merch, we skipped out on the Shins, hearing them from a distance as we retreted to the camp (they actually allowed re-entry due to the extreme circumnstances, and the shivering blue people everywhere.) We made the trek and returned to the car to put on dry clothes- which was one of the most relieving experiences in recent memory- then ate a bunch of cheese, bread and wine before returning to the show. Unfortunaely the tent had been completely demolished by the hail- one of the poles had broken and stabbed through the tent wall and rain tarp. We arrived back in the middle of Ben Harper's set- which was vaguely remniscent of the mood of a Dave Matthew's concert- mass appeal, lost of "talented" musicians on stage doing overly-long solos, girls in the crowd doing the hippie white-girl dance, etc. I don't really know how I feel about Ben Harper- I mean, he's obviously talented... but, ... yea. I still have to force myself to fool myself into pretending to like and/or appreciate it.
Due to the hail the Flaming Lips were pushed back to last on the line-up. J and Martha went backstage while I made my way to the thick of the stagefront crowd because that's where one needs to be for the Flaming Lips. After almost an hour of seeting up with all the psychicadelicey-gimmick-gear Wayne Coyne climbed into his hampster ball and crawl-walk-rolled over the crowd, thus beginnig the onslaught of cannon confetti, fog bazooka, high-beam light cannon things held by mini armies of aliean and stanta clauses, noise and fun that is a Flaming Lips show. Funnily enough Wayne Coyne is one of the most inarticulate people behind a microphone I've ever seen. INbetween each song he'd take a few minutes to mumble about how cold it was, or how we should all "get together and vote" and that was "good enough for him."Back at camp
The the the SUV had to serve as a shelter in lieu of a tent... which was cramped but warm. Used my bike light as a flash light and poncho as a blanket...

Day 2.
In stark contrast to the previous day I awoke in my 2 thick layers of wool sweating profusely. Climbing out of the car my first thought was "coffee" so I walked the mile to the tiny convienence store and spent $7 on two cups of Starbucks drip, promptly blackspotting the logos and phrases on the cups with a sharpie just because I was so annoyed at having no other choice than to buy and consme their brand... grr.
on the walk back the main path through the camp hand turned to deep squishy mud and cars were getting stuck left and right. A huge truck even started peeling out- it's wheels spinning in-place began spraying mud-splatter all over. I jumped around the corner of an RV just before it revved the engine and covered and entire camp of 5 tents and 15 people head-to-toe in an explosion of mud. wow.
Returned as Martha and J still slept in the back of our rented SUV (double-grrr) and took a seat on the roof people watching for an hour before J joined me. Fratty kids drinking beer at 8:30am, long bathroom lines, the looks on peoples faces when they left the Port-a-potties, like they were holding back vomit... pretty classic stuff, really.
The gorge and surrounding area are, of course, lovely. Especially in the morning heat- and it did get hot. Most of the "bros" had their shirts off. Guys just wearing kilts (or should I say "dorks"?) Running around spilling their precious Heinekens, Bros playing wiffle-ball and hitting our retned SUV with their Frisbees... Most prominent was the competeing car stereos blaring most typical a dn innappropriate soundtracks to our morning, namely Bob Marley, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, M.I.A., Outkast, Pearl Jam, the Roots and - in rebellion- we added Radiohead's Pablo Honey to the chorus. Very out of context, not festive exactly. Camping, ahh... I hadn't camped at an outdoor music festival since Bizarre Fest in Koeln, D-land back in the Summer of 1998. I was perhaps a more hearty 18-year old, able to endure wind, rain, and constant drinking quite easily. Just a tad more fragile and suseptable (sp?) now... to everything.
We had many many hours to kill before the Decemberists (the first band Martha wanted to see) so we packed up camp and exited the premisses to see what we could see. The parking attendand said that the nearest town was a whopping 45 minutes away- so as we drove away we decided against it, but in a stroke of luck the very place I pulled into to turn around happened to be the driveway for "Cave B Winery, Inn and Vineyards" so we proceeded through the vineyards to the edge of the gorge cliff once again and sure enough - right next to the Gorge (wou could clearly hear the Pretty Girls starting their set) was a little winery. Two middle-aged almost twin-looking women were behing the oak bar doleing out the 5-wine tasting of the day, which was pleasant... and a step above chugging Heieken so early in the day. J took a sink-bath as Martha and I sat out in the ivy-covered oval-shaped wlaking garden, and J proceeded to read to us about Seattle history from the second issue of "Seattle Metropolitan Magazine" (that ever-so-slightly silly publication which had the huge opening party bash at the Paramount a few months back where Melissa slipped the whole huge wheel of brie into her purse, heh.)
Note: Warning- I continue after this point 24 hours later and after several beers, might be interesting to see the slight alteration in tone/content... like an expirament.
Drinking wine early in the day made me just want to sleep, which I did. I slept throught the Arctic Monkeys (why dont' they spell is Monkies... or ...ok,) napped on the concrete-lawn, watched the delightfully charming Decemberists (despite the guest appearabce by Jabba the Hut (Sean Nelson) who is kinda embarassing to watch, (no- of course I don't dislike him for asking/going out on a date with Alex right after we broke up, after stalking her at the video store for a year previous. nope, not one bit biased or resentful.... but my blood kind-of boils with rage whenever I see him... even if he is a nice guy or whatever, which supposedly he is.. Supposedly... it is embarrasing to watch him hop and sing and hop, his man-boobs flapping up and down/ it's just wierd.... anyhow, I particularly enjoyed when the singer of the Decemberists went around death-grip-zapping his bandmated one by one, then the entire audience, who lovered into a crouch, the ressurected us all. Good stuff. like kids music for adults.
Got tired/then napped through Mathisyahu (cuz I'd already seen him at coachella) (kinda worried that he's a fraud) while staring with one eye at Ben Lee signing stuff 30 ft. away at the Easy Street booth... thinking "that guy dated Claire Danes... for a long time..." the name has that particular association. Stood in line for coffee all through Queens of the stone age- ONE HOUR FOR THREE CUPS OF COFFEEEEE... staff at Sasquatch was completely retarded, and I don't use the term lightly. RE-TARD-ED. emphasis on three syllables. Especially when we climbed the fence in the campgroung after being lead down a false path with a dead end and a slobbering fat man in a poncho chased us down in a neon-orange construction vest, wearing very thick and fogged-up glasses, stumbling up to us with slurred speech yelling
"This is private property! Get back over that fence!"
"But there wasn't a sign that said 'private property'."
"Yea, well he's a real stickler, he'll have you through in jail"
"The maybe he should put a sign up or close the gate so it doesn't look like you can walk this way. Look - a bunch of other people are doing it too-" (I point towards a group climbing over where we had)
"yea, well, you gotta stay off it. Can't go here."
(me thinking: 'why don't you go yell at them, bumbass')
"We wouldn't had we known but there was no way of knowing" (goes on and on like this, gotta love it.)
So, Death Cab actually rocked (never thought I'd say that, never cared about a band with that name and their sissy music) But they did- they rocked adn i was totally blown away, even despite the second "Special guest appearance" by Mr. Nelson, double "grrr"... I dunno, I guess I was oblivious to whenever Harvey Danger was popular. ok, I'm so sick of describing all these shows- next, Beck was brilliant, like Michel Gondry LIVE of something with the mini-marionette show mimicking everone's movements... mini... oh, and the full dinner table set which was placed on stage where the band sat and served as rhythm and percussion as they sorta pretendedto eat. Puppet dcumentary during the intermission between main set and encore- so good. After they finally left the sage people just stood there clapping/whistling/screaming for 10 minutes...
Returning to the car we were encountered by a dynamic du from Moses Lake
"Hey, hey- you got jumper cables?" they shouted across the field.
"Uh, I'll have to look - it's a rental."
We didn't- no brownie points for AVIS to not include jumper cables. Some (Canadian?) hippies cooking outside their VW bus had cables, so we pulled up nose-to-nose with the Moses Lakers, whoc were drunker than drunk- so, in retrospect- it's probably a realllly good thingthat their car wouldn't start because they surely would've driven off a cliff.
Drunk guys handling jumper cables is really scary. Especially when they touch them toghter accidentally and sparks fly, I kept saying whoa- WHOA- stand back! You guys ok?" The obviously weren't ok. one of them tried to walk betwen the cars WHILE the cables were connectedand I had to halt him to stop him from tripping over the cable extended there. These guys sucked, basically, adn we spend an hour trying to jump their little beater, but to no avail. Even the Canadian hippies concluded that the battery or circuts ro somethign was totally dead. Even when we were driving away they kept asking "can you give us a jump?" (having already forgotten about the previous hours attempts) "uh, well- remember- we just tried to jumps start your car like 30 times, and the canadians have the cables, not us." "Oh, so you can't help" (are you kidding-!) "No, we TRIED for and HOUR- it DIDN"T WORK!" trying to be polite with a guy who has the short memory of the connom goldfish. We did let them use Martha's cellphone to call thei buddies, then got the heck out. Driving was glorious- three hours of dark foggyness listeining to Midnight Vultures- whcih i wierd because I can't usually tolerate listening to a cd of someone I've just seen.... anyhow, J and I bitched about our effed-up relationships which had just recently ended and out effed-up exes and how retarded we were for being in such obviously ridiculous relationships for so long. Just before arriving to Seattle I had the sudden urge to keep going to Vancouver, but J talked me out of it- since we are all filthy and Martha was asleep- so she migh not be too happy to wake up in Canada...

Monday, Memorial Day- May 30, 2006 - no one rememers what we are supposed to be remembering

I dreamt that my parents weren't leaving Iceland afterall... but in reality they are moving to that moldy excuse for a country known as "England"... (just kidding, it produces a lot of good music,theatre, movies,... no, not movies... tv.) to be fair, I still respect it more that the USA.
today at he "bread of Life" mission across the street from Elliott Bay Book COmpany the usual 6 o'clock crowd... was waiting to see if they'd get in for the night... one of them was weating a large embroidered hoodie with "B.U.M. Equipment" written in huge carsity letters on the back...
Don't mean to rant, but Alexandra Cartwright never cancelled the internet service I had set up on the computer we used to share, which I noticed finally- I've been paying for her internet for the last 4 months, and she hasn't yet returned the keys to our old apartment (even though it is only a block walk form her work), thus preventing me STILL from getting the deposit back... inconsiderate to say the least. Lazy.
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Note: chances are this entry will be of no interest to anyone but myself.
Location: Cafe Victrola. 30 people, 9 laptops. Last week all I wanted to to was watch Star Wars but all I could find was "Return of the Jedi" ... which sufficed. (sp?)
A: Haven't checked the news or myspace in 6 days now. Feeling a bit like I don't care. Alas, once the show is installed at work and I have dozens of hours of sitting in front of a computer at work we'll see how I hold out.
B: 8:47pm I've managed to pry myself away from the creature comforts of either working in the studio and/or watching whichever netflix movies happen to be around the house. The danger of netflix (that is; the danger of an addictive time-suck) hasn't gotten ahold of me like it did when I was last using it (daily) 4 years ago... in fact I've had "Breakfast on Pluto" for at least 3 weeks now... and stil can't seem to muster the attention span enough to finish the last half-hour. Meanwhile the filmfest is going on and I can't even fathom seeing a movie every day- much less the 45 films I managed in 25 days last year. Sad sad sad, but the fact that I'm not interested/able to find time and energy to watch movies has to be good... eh? Keeping busy in other (hopefully more productive ways, ja?) Today I was the most tired I've ever been. Ever. After the 5 days of hosting guests I was completely whipped- mainly because we kept really busy- they were dropped off with all their gear (luggage and camping stuff) at the opening Gala for the filmfest last thursday and ever since then we've basically been constantly doing things.
C: Ok, I don't know how to write anymore, how does one re-learn such a basic skill...? I found a story that I had scrawled in ink on computer paper the Summer of 1999 and it was prettty clever. I can't seem to write/be creative with that same fervor (of course I never slept back then) But my atention span and capacity for makinig finished written work has gone waaay down the crapper. This blog post is boring me to tears, time to end...
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Tuesday, May 16, 2006

not doing well. I'm just writing in here because it s the middle of the workday and i have... at least 6 hours or more before I can write anything anywhere else. I'm really not doing well. I don't know if I can actually survive this. constant upset-ness. constant hopelessness... an a simmering anger. I would love for all this b.s. to...just be done with...
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