beautiful, funny, sad & true

Friday night was a gig with Breanna and Justin down in Salem.  Every time we play there, we play at a place called the Blue Pepper, which is a brilliant little music venue/coffee shop/lounge/internet cafe/art gallery where we love to play.  I arrived with my cello at a little bit before seven o’clock, put the cello inside, and went outside to talk on the phone.  I didn’t see Justin or Breanna, but there were two guitars set up on stage, so I didn’t think much about it.  I went back out to make a quick phone call, and a guy with bleached blonde hair came out and said, “Is that a cello in the case?”

‘Yup.”

“Are you playing tonight?”

“Yeah, with Justin and Breanna.”

“That’s interesting, because I’M playing from seven til nine.”

“Oh really?”  I laughed.  “Looks like I have some phone calls to make, then.”  I called Justin and said, “I’m at the Blue Pepper.  Are we playing elsewhere this time?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “We’ll drive around and meet you, and show you where the place is.”

So we caravanned over to a cool new venue called The Space, which wasn’t open when we arrived.  Turned out we were almost an hour early, so Justin & Breanna got out their guitars and sat on the sidewalk to sing and play.  I called J, and we talked on the phone for about half an hour, then I walked over to eat (since JustBre had already eaten) at McMenamin’s.  I had a surprisingly awesome combination of salad, tater tots and red wine.  Incidentally, that seems to have been a good recipe for better-than-average cello playing, because I really felt like my playing was ‘on’ all night, which happens every once in a while.

Inside, the Space is what I imagine the love child would look like if the Blue Pepper and Seattle’s Sunset Tavern ever hooked up for a steamy night of forbidden passion.  The walls are painted red with white trim, there’s a cobalt blue curtain covering the window behind the stage area, and there are large, colorful paintings everywhere.

Insted of playing until nine like we normally do, we finished at almost eleven.  The three of us were invited to get taken out somewhere afterwards, but I’d come straight from work, and I had an early morning on Saturday (more to come about that later), so I decided to ‘peace out’ and drive back up to Portland.

Suffice it to say that at first the evening seemed like a bit of a disaster, but it ended up being really great.

Yesterday after work, my friend Blaine came to meet me at my place, where we switched to my car and drove to Seaside to meet Chris and Nicole, who live in GoldenGateCity. You remember them, they got married this last spring. Anyway, they were up in Seaside (Oregon, that is; there’s a Seaside in GoldenState also) for the entire week. They stopped in to see me at my place on their way up, and I recruited Blaine to join me when I went over to visit them last night. We had a blast listening to a funny CD we made about a million years ago, and laughing like hyenas the entire way.

It was sunny and ninety degrees when we left Portland, but when we arrived at the coast it was cold and fairly crappy. This is the norm on the Oregon coast, and I’ve learned to be prepared with a hoodie or something, no matter what time of year it is.

The terrible picture is from my phone, by the way. There’s a huge amateur volleyball tournament happening this weekend (Sarah in NYC? You gonna be there?), so there are nets everywhere on the beach, as well as a smallish stage. We met Chris and Nicole and went to sushi at a pretty decent Japanese restaurant called Tora. After that, we headed back to their time-share, which is the same one that Chris’s parents and siblings (and siblings’ kids) were staying in, so we went to their parents’ place to say hello to everyone.

We all talked and laughed, and at around 10:00, Blaine and I drove the hour and a half back to Portland. Again, we had a great time talking and laughing, but the drive was more difficult this time. It was foggy through the mountains, and we saw a coyote or something in the road at one point. Once we were in the city limits, around 11:45, there was a huge wreck in the opposite direction of the highway, which looked like a motorcycle was involved. There were lots of police cars, and at least one ambulance, and traffic was completely stopped.

We got home and I went in and went to bed, but Blaine still had to drive himself back to his house, which is about half an hour’s drive, in Vancouver’s NorthernSuburb. Incidentally, I’d like to give a ‘shout out’ to Blaine, who said that he reads my blog in the morning on his PDA, while sitting on the toilet. No doubt some would say that’s the only appropriate place to be while reading blogs, but as far as I’m concerned, wherever you want to read from is fine by me.

OneYearAgo

I didn’t sleep well at my mom’s house, because of her three dogs. They all wear clanky chain collars, and they also have a tendency to bark in the middle of the night. I got up around 10:00 a.m., called Chris, packed up my stuff and drove over to his house at noon.

I’ve known Chris for about thirty years. He’s actually my brother’s best friend (since kindergarten!), but I consider him a very close friend as well. He, his wife and I used to work together at the ‘crazy’ video store, back in the diz-ay. Incidentally, he is an active reader of this blog (and much more frequent than my brother, I might add–HI, CHRIS!), so here I am sending a salute his way. Spent the afternoon with him, his wife, and his kids, which was great. I even got a sandwich, some homemade potato salad, and a bagpipe concert as part of the deal. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I did. Good times.

From there, I drove to the home of GuitaristAl, who I met when I was in college. He’s a really great guy, and an amazing guitarist (both then and now), and he’s created quite a career for himself as a teacher. We sat and talked at his house, and played guitar together for a while. I wish I had a picture of him playing (and falling in love with) my old white Guild guitar. After a while, we started to get hungry, so we went to the sushi restaurant in Yakima. (I’m pretty sure it was Al’s first time having sushi.) It was surprisingly good; a bit on the expensive side, but good nonetheless. The restaurant is called Ozeki, and it’s in the location that used to be the Golden Moon, which is about two blocks from the shitty apartment I lived in for four years. Yes, I have pictures from back then, but they’re far too embarrassing to share here.

With my belly full of sushi and my brain full of good conversation, I decided that it was time to head home, so I drove back to Portland. I took a few unexciting pictures along the way, despite the fact that Highway 12 is one of the most scenic highways in the state of Washington. The problem is that the most scenic parts happen to occur at the exact same time as the curviest, narrowest stretches of road, so there’s no real opportunity to stop and take interesting photos. Oh well.

Five hours later, I got home and crashed. End of story.

Oh yeah. . .here’s a funny story. There are two hand prints, about a foot and a half apart, on the back window of my Honda. There is also – although you can only see it when the light is just right – the imprint of a woman’s back and the shoulder strap of her tank top. This means that people were either making out or getting it on while they were leaning against the back of my car! This happened on Friday night, while I was at the gig, and my car was parked in the lot behind the venue.

If you saw how dirty my car is, you’d find that even more hilarious.

Can I just take a minute to reiterate how glad I am that I don’t live in Yakima anymore? Cause it’s true. Even after almost thirteen years, I still get down on my knees and thank HigherPower that I made it out alive. Yakima is a shit-hole of a town, and I don’t use that description lightly.

And now, after that catharsis, it’s time to go to bed.

Boy, was this trip to Yakima a weird one. Quite possibly the weirdest one yet.

I was planning to go see DrummerAdam play with Chuck Prophet. Turned out that I was mistaken, and Adam’s band was OPENING for Chuck Prophet. That’s still very cool, and well worth the drive. The band he was playing with was a person whose CD I played on, and on Wednesday I got a text message from the band leader which said, “I heard you’re going to be in Yakima. Want to sit in with us?” I agreed on the spot.

This was not a band I normally play with, except one other time, and I played cello at that show. This time I decided to play lead guitar, so I spent the next two days learning all the songs by listening to them on my iPod at work and in my car on the way down. I was the first to arrive at the venue, which was the Yakima Sports Center. Those of us who grew up in Yakima know that it used to be one of the sleaziest places in town, second only to the infamous (and now nonexistent) Blue Banjo, at least in my book, but it was completely refurbished in the late 1990’s, and now it’s a perfectly respectable restaurant and music venue.

Most of my friends from Yakima have long since moved away, but I do still have some friends there, and they were all planning to come to the show. Two of them weren’t able to make it, but DrummerTy was, and he actually brought my guitar teacher with him. I took guitar lessons for about six months when I was fifteen years old, and I’d only seen my teacher a few times since then. He was a great guy back then, and he’s still a great guy now. It was an amazing surprise to see him again.

We were the opening act, but for some reason, our set was only a half hour long. We also played a few weird cover songs. I asked, “If our set is only a half hour, why are we playing ANY cover songs?” Apparently, there was some sort of promotion going on at the venue called “Guilty Pleasures”, so each of the three bands was expected to play a few songs that everyone would know, and would never admit to liking. I found out about that when we were on stage; I certainly didn’t see it coming. The ‘guilty pleasure’ songs we played were “Human Nature” by Michael Jackson, “I’m a Believer” by the Monkees, and “Night Moves” by Bob Seger. I was a bit embarrassed, to be honest, because my friends who hadn’t seen me play in at least thirteen years were there watching me play these ridiculous songs that I didn’t know. I was a little bit nervous, but the band is very good, and we all played well together, despite having no rehearsals beforehand, and despite those weird other songs. I wouldn’t say it was the best gig I’ve ever had, but I’ve certainly had plenty of worse ones.

After we were done, I packed my stuff off stage and went to talk to DrummerTy. We sat at the bar and unsuccessfully attempted to order a drink from the aloof waitress. Probably a good thing in retrospect, because Ty was already very drunk. He was silent for a few moments and just sat there looking at me. Finally, he said, in a strange voice, “You’re the best musician I’ve ever known.”

I sensed that something was up, and said, “Thank you. . .I think. I’m expecting a ‘but.’ ”

He looked away, looked back and said, “What the fuck are you doing? There was nothing entertaining about that. It was lame.” Suddenly the band leader appeared from behind me with a beer and set it on the counter in front of me, then disappeared back into the crowd. “LAME,” Ty repeated, to me.

“This is not my normal thing,” I said, “It was also a weird gig, because our set was only half an hour, which I didn’t know beforehand, and I certainly didn’t know we were playing all those crappy ‘guilty pleasure’ songs.”

Ty replied, “Are you trying to be a pop star? You’re not even a pop musician. You live in the abstract.”

“I’m not a pop star, I’m trying to be a producer. This was just one gig, on one night. I don’t know what you mean by ‘living in the abstract.’ ”

He rubbed his eyes, which seemed to be bothering him. “I listened to all the songs on your web site, and I don’t even like them.” That’s nothing that concerns me, so I didn’t say anything. Just then, his friend and friend’s girlfriend arrived. He didn’t introduce me. They talked among themselves for a minute, and then Ty said, to no one in particular, “I’m too drunk. I need to get outta here or I’m gonna get in a fight.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. They started to head toward the door, so I said good night, and then went over and gave my old guitar teacher a hug, and they all drove off. I went outside, feeling like I’d been sucker-punched. After a few minutes, Adam came outside, saw me, and noticed that I was bummed out. I told him what happened, and he said that he’s seen Ty like that pretty often. He goes out, drinks too much, and then gets belligerent. After having a few days to think about it, I feel like this conversation was Ty’s version of ‘tough love’ or something, but that’s certainly not the way to go about it.

This all happened during the second performer of the night, who is a songwriter from here in Portland who I’ve seen a couple of times before, and who I’m not particularly impressed with. Between my conversation with Ty and walking outside, I pretty much missed his entire set. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to stay and see Chuck Prophet, who was absolutely awesome. I got a glass of wine and talked with our various band members for a while. I also saw a musician friend of mine from college, who went on to open a recording studio, which later closed down after a few years. I went and talked with him for a while, and it was okay, but not as much fun as I expected. He had to leave after about fifteen minutes, so I went back to hang out with the band. The show ended soon after, so I packed up my car, gave hugs all around to the band members, and left. I was still feeling really angry, and I was also exhausted after the three-hour drive to Yakima. I had come directly from work.

Around 1:30 a.m., I arrived at my mom’s empty house (she and my stepdad were in Seattle visiting my brother’s family), and when I was bringing my instruments in from the car, I noticed that I was missing my amp stand, so I had to drive clear back downtown to retrieve it. Finally, I was able to go to bed. Didn’t sleep too well, either, because my mom has three dogs, all of which wear clanky chain collars and walk around barking in the middle of the night.

This entry is getting a bit on the long side, so I think I’m going to turn this into a two-part entry.

You’ll be glad to know that Saturday was great. The second part of this story isn’t negative at all.

OneYearAgo

This is a really busy week. . .not that I haven’t had plenty to talk about, just haven’t had time to tell about it. Saturday I went and had an awesome breakfast with my friend, and then went to KBOO to record an episode of JBJ’s radio show, which will be aired next week.

Tuesday night I made a nice, improvised dinner for my friend of tofu, bell peppers, tomatoes, garlic, and basil leaves, in a blackberry teriyaki sauce, stir-fried and served with rice. It didn’t come out like I expected, but it was really good nonetheless. Then I went downtown to see a show that featured many of my actor friends. It was very entertaining, and quite the combination of elements. I took lots of pictures; when I have more time I’ll post a few. After the show, a handful of us went around the corner to Ground Kontrol, where we played Rock Band for the first time. I played drums. It was really fun, but a bit weird, too, if you already know how to play the instrument in question. A few guys came up after our song and said, “You’re a real drummer, aren’t you? I could tell. You were using the pedal and everything!” Hilarious.

Last night my friend and I went to sushi and then went looking for a raincoat for her, and then the rest of the time I spent cleaning up after the cooking extraganza the night before. I also watched the movie DIG! after that, which is excellent. I’m definitely planning to watch it again before I return it.

Tonight after work, I’m driving down to Salem for a cello recording session, doing the session (as long as it takes) and then driving home. Tomorrow after work, I’m driving to Yakima for the weekend, to play a gig, and to see a couple of friends. Again, I’ll write more about all of this when I have some more time, and after I have some pictures to show for it.

Why ‘ouroboros’? Because I’ve been so busy lately that the feeling of chasing my own tail isn’t quite enough. . .by the time this weekend is over, I will have caught up with myself, and I may actually find myself able to eat my own tail.

Ew.

Anyway.

Carl Jung is rolling over in his grave right now.

OneYearAgo