10:59 p.m.

Friday, Apr. 21, 2006

Water makes it refreshing!

Hi.

Lately I have been running into people that I know on the somewhat scale. Usually the people I met once through a friend and talked with over food and or alcohol. For the last couple weeks, maybe month, prior I hadn't seen many people and I found it weird that I wasn't really seeing anyone. For some reason, though, this seems usual. All of a sudden it seems I spend most of my days alone, not really talking to anyone- and I don't realize this for a while or until the end of the day. Then, one day, I start seeing a bunch of people, sometimes people I met once, but don't recognize while they stare at me. With me that is how it goes. I don't pay much attention to people, although I actually do, but not specifically to persons, so if anyone is going to say anything, it's usually the other person. For example, when I've run into persons who I share at least one class with, they're the one to point out that we have or had share(d) a class. This happened last weekend, actually.

Saturday night I was planning to go and see the Bananas play at some venue that I never heard of but looked up on google maps a couple hundred times. Whenever I go somewhere I am not very familiar, and sometimes even when I am, I look over and again, and again, and again, and so on, at a map of the area. So, there I was, sitting at my computer on Saturday night, thinking about my plans to go out and sighing. It was raining. I don't mind the rain, but sometimes being soaked isn't fun and this appeared to be a possibility. I wanted to go to the show. I was tired. Sitting in my bed and reading a book sounded nice, like a good warm idea. However, my mind butted into imagination land and said, "yeah, but you know you're just going to watch teevee and think about reading." Damn, that's a good, true argument. What to do. The show was slated for 8pm, and it was just past as I finished my ramen and veggies dinner.

Now, from my experience of going to shows- seeing live bands, as I have to clarify for my mother and somehow no one else- there is a time given when the show is suppose to "start," but usually this is a beakon for at least an hour before the show really starts. On some rare occasions and at some venues it is common to start quite near the posted time. The point is, I developed a pattern of going to shows "late" because whenever I have arrived around the posted time, such as 8pm, or even a half-hour past that, nothing is going on except for a few people milling around. Lately, though, there has been this emerging pattern of shows starting when they are posted to start. "Show: Bands: 8pm" the flyer states in surprising truth. Here is my dilemma, aside from being lazy.

As I was saying, I sat at my computer desk, having just finished my dinner, staring over and again at the map of the mission area to familiarize myself with the location of a place I have never been and am still not sure if I plan to go. With my eyes dancing about my desk in an indecisive manner I end up staring at some loose change. Ah, fate of my thumb: flip of a quarter. That's what I'll do: flip a quarter. Heads= go. Tails= stay home. AND, I must follow what comes up. No 'ifs, ands or butts'. Hee hee.

Flip: heads.

Uhh, that's best 2 for 3, yeah.

Flip: heads.

Wow. I know it's unnecessary to flip again, but...

Flip: heads.

Ummm, what's that ratio of if you flip a quarter 50 times...uhhh, I'm totally making excuses. At this point I was hoping to get tails so as to have just enough validation to stay home and hop into bed early. "Tails man, thus spoke the quarter through the spinning of the air, inspired by my thumb." What B.S. Staying home is easier than going out, taking two buses, downing alcohol, listening to loud music, and stand around possibly not knowing anyone. Hmmm, alcohol? Well...

Shoes on. Hoodie on. Just do it before you think about it. Yes yes. Go to it, out the door! What got me to finally go was this statement I ran through my head many times at the first leg of my journey: "you can always turn around and go home." So, I was out the door and at the corner of my block peering down the road toward the ocean, hoping for a bus to be on it's way toward me to pull me deep into the penninsula. Seeing no bus I walk up the street 3 blocks to the next stop which has a little open bus-stop box to stand under, and the walk helped me kill some time. Under ten minutes later the bus comes into view and makes it's way to me holding only one other person besides the driver. This is about the easiest part of the journey, but along this bus route, also the most bumpy. I brought the novel The Guermantes Way, by Marcel Proust, to do some assigned reading for my Paris class. At some points, the road was heavily pock marked and uneven so much so that the bus shook right into me and my book, making focus on a particular sentence difficult. I ventured on.

Arriving at the destination of this bus I had come to a decision that if I didn't see the bus I was transferring onto coming down the hill, I would start walking the route. That way I wouldn't be standing around, as I have some times before, for up to, maybe longer, than a half-hour when, I learned some weeks earlier, that I could have walked the distance in about 15 minutes. No bus heading down, so I start walking.

There was no bus during my walk, so I was happy with my decision as I arrived at Mission St., only needing to walk a couple blocks south and start looking for this art house place. Maybe some kids standing around smoking in small groups. That's usually a tip-off for a venue. Although, it can also be a red herring, calling you to another place like a bar or possibly some other music event that you do not want to attend. I walk down the street, looking carefully at each lighted sign, for clusters of people around a doorway, for someone collecting money from kids in ratty clothes in patches, something. I walk a block furhter than the cross street than I had memorized, having not yet found the location, just in case the map I looked at was wrong. No luck, so I cross the next street and start walking back up Mission, keeping an eye out on all the places I pass and, failing to find the art house venue, head home. Walking back up a block I start to think that maybe the show was cancelled for some reason, maybe the burned out building I passed was where it was, maybe I would be going home. Maybe I would get some sleep tonight! There's that imagination again, always imaginating. Then, through my headphones and their tattered foam I hear punk rock. And not the kind coming from my player, seperate.

I just passed a place that I didn't even look at which may have been the place, then I stop walking, stand still for a second, walk a couple steps backward and take a look to my right. Ah, a dark glass door, flyer sized paper designating the art house "Balazo 18". Oh yeah. I had a similar senario about two weeks prior in Sactoe, going to a place called Junta where, after much searching and finally being clued in by Pete, caught Jewdriver and The Shemps but missed The Four Eyes, cause they played while I was trying to find the darned place. Also, that show started on time, but it was a Monday night and sometimes weeknights are like that. With that in mind, I open the the door and walk into a small hallway leading up to the pay stand and then onto the noise. As I'm putting my hat and headphones into my messenger bag a guy stops me and says that he's in my class. "Paris," he tells me, so I ask his name with my hand outstretched and we make greetings, this guy who I can sort of make out in the dim light. After this brief hello and introduction he heads outside and I pay my $5.

Walking into the large open space of the 'art gallery' I survey the small crowd gathered around the stage of the performing band. To my left is an empty old couch, and in front of the couch is a dumpy red chair where sits a guy I recognize. We stare at each other while I slowly approach, then as I finally get with handshaking distance I recognize him from my philosophy of mind class from last semester. I had talked with him a couple times after class, discussing the reading, a paper assignment, or the evening's lecture. So, he was a familiar face. I made some brief chat while reaching into my bag to find my ear plugs. Putting them into my ears I signaled that I was going to watch the band, then I walked into the small crowd to get a decent viewing position. The second half of a three or less minutes songs blasts through, then the band says thank you and begins taking their equipment off stage. Well, that was quick. I barely had time to make an assessment on them. So I walk back to friend/classmate in the red chair.

We talk for a bit and he tells me that he's in the next band. I ask him a bit about his band, probably asking and promptly forgetting the name. After a few minutes he says he should get ready to play and heads off towards the stage. I take a quick look around the room, small groups of people are formed up and none of the people I recognize. I look down at the empty chair and decide to take a seat. Really, I plopped into the chair, expecting some plush but was met with a thin cushion and a firm board. I wonder if anyone caught my quick look of surprise which dissolved into the thought, "should've known better." So, there I sat in the red chair, watching people filter in, move about, many knowing one another. A guy walks is walking around and modestly handing out fliers. He approaches me and gives me one with the pleasant smile he's giving everyone. Later I find out he's the bassist for the third band. Soon, The Feldmans take the stage, so I wander over to make myself a spot near the front, but off to the side beside a speaker, and stuff in my ear plugs for the ready. I begin to wonder where the cans of beer various people are holding have come from.

I enjoy the rocking set, learning about this band that's new to me and digging the energy they put off increasing with each song and literally falling into the crowd. When they are done playing, I notice some more people with beer cans, but still cannot figure out from where they are coming. There were no floating cases to be found, so I guess there's a hidden stash. Plus, what's with this side hall that people keep coming into and out of? I contemplate these things while leaning against the wall that was a few feet from where I stood to watch the band. Time goes by and I stand, looking around, thinking about booze. I shift my position about and peer into the dark hallway. That was when I noticed the crooked arrow and lighted letters B-A-R. OHHH. To the dark hallway I head.

I move inside this new room through a pair of swinging doors, a whole new depth of darkness, booths to sit in, various items and music equipment scattered about, and most of the people in their groups smoking and drinking away. But, most importantly, the bar sits at the farest end. There's a bit of a line that I start to join, trying to make out the handwritten sign of available drinks- some different beers and easily mixed drinks- when I notice Mike Banana, then the other Bananas standing around with other people, talking. All with booze in hand. I walk over and say hi to Mike while keeping an eye on the line, holding back until the calm. We chat for a bit until I see a good gap to make for the drink counter and inform that I am going to get booze. As Mike points out, "It's expensive, but what else are you gunna do."

"Pabst," I order, knowing I should have just brought my own, which would have been cheaper, but I was at their $2.50 mercy of wanting booze now. The guy behind the counter opens the top freezer door revealing a bunch of beer cans and pulls out a Pabst. I pay, tip, and walk back over to Mike to talk some more. The time passes, I drink half my beer, conversation. Somehow I decide to go back out to the stage to see if the next band is up. As soon I get back to the open area of the stage I run into my philosophy classmate/friend and complement his bands performance. He tells me of their latest cd, then asks the one guitarist carrying the cds in his backpack to give me a copy. I ask how much, but he declines having me pay the $5 (punk rock), so I delight in the new awesome music and more money for booze. We continue to stand to the side of the stage, beside the hall that leads to the bar, and talk while the next band sets up. By this point, more people have filtered in and the place is filling up.

Onion Flavored Rings are ready to start playing, but first toss out a couple small grab sized bags of Funyuns for the crowd to snack on and as a clever marketing ploy. Each greasy snack treat you swallow will infest your intestines! Rock! Or, maybe it's something to do with the name. Anyhow, after tossing off five or so bags of Funyuns, they start playing. I pop in my earplugs, sip off my now half empty Pabst, and pay close attention to the band. While I have a good view, I am also in a high traffic area, and as more people get closer and closer to the stage, more bodies going to or from the bathroom, which is behind the stage and past me, rub against me. Some people, upon approach, notice the small space between me and the person nearest me watching the band with an unhappy twist of the face before squeezing through. I don't mind, pushing myself against the wall to give a bit more room and small friendly smile to show that I don't care you're: rubbing past me, stepped on my foot, almost knocked me in the face with your backpack. If people started to lean against me, usually under influence of the drink, I'd give a push back with my body, while still watching the stage, and the person would eventually lean another direction or move on. At some point, nearer to the beginning of the set, my friend's girlfriend comes over and he introduces me, explains the class we had together, and she mentions something about someone being smart. When I later thought about it, I figured she was saying that my friend was really smart. Yeah, I'd agree from what I know. Pretty entertaining to watch on stage too.

When the Onion Flavored Rings finish, I look over at my friend, hold up my can, now empty, and say, "I'm going to get more booze," hoping to get back before what I expect to be other people in the crowd with the same idea. I get back to the bar and there isn't much of a line. After about a minute of standing around the guy signals me for an order. "Pabst," I say. He takes a look into the freezer, but this time comes back empty handed and says that they're out of PBR, but have Tecate and some other names I couldn't hear over the various chatter and Dead Kennedy's playing on a nearby speaker. "Tecate," I decide, not knowing the price is any different. I figure, same beer, different name. I mean, I buy PBR and Old Milwakee, but I know they're same beer essentially. Same company is one thing. Cheap canoe beer for another. There's some difference in taste, but altogether I can make a blanket expectation. Anyway, since I ordered a Pabst and they were out, the guy gives me the Tecate for $3 instead of $3.50. I thank him, tip, and move off to pop open my taste of south of the border. Wanting to find a good place to watch The Bananas, I go back out to the stage area, find a wall to lean on, and hang out with my beer.

I look around a bit at the crowd. See many of the same people, but don't know them. I spot my friend, but didn't want to bother him anymore, so I keep by the wall and space out or look around at the crowd. There are a couple other people standing around by themselves as well. For a moment I have an urge to walk up to a guy with a mop of curly hair and glasses who looks kinda bored, like myself, and interested in conversation with anyone, like myself. Though, without thinking it much over, I decide to stay put. Then, a few minutes later the same guy, or so he appeared, walks over and introduces himself, asking if I'm from the city. I shake his hand, giving my name, and explain that I live in the city, but am not from. He tells me he is from somewhere in Tennessee and is just visiting for the week. Something like that. I ask about his journey and he tells me about visiting some other friends in Seattle, I think, prior to coming to S.F., then the friend he's with and him are going to bike to Boston, Massachusetts. We continue talking for a bit, I ask if he knows of the Bananas and he tells me he does, that they're popular where he's from and that's why he's "there." Soon I see the band setting up on stage, so I tell him I'm going to move closer to the stage to grab myself a spot and we part ways with a smile and a "later."

As soon I walk up to the stage, many other people are doing the same and filling in close. At first I have a good spot, right next to the large speaker's side, and my shins nearly against the 2 foot high stage. But, as people fill in, I get a bit crammed by a group to my left who know each other and from a sort of half circle, creating some backs to block part of my stage view. I don't care and I'd rather keep my spot then push around. Plus, if people get wild, I'm enough on the outskirts, and there was some small thrashing about for the previous bands. So, I stand there, surveying the area, look at the serious looking gentleman who was controlling the sound a few feet away from me, then at the various wires and crap on the ground. I spot a small bag of Funyuns on the stage just below me. At first, the bag looks unopened, but then after staring for a moment I notice it has been opened. Hmmm, I continue staring, there may still be some crunchy rings in there. "Might as well pick up the bag and check," I think to myself just before picking up the bag and looking inside. Yep. About half full. Now comes the next question: will I eat them?

Okay okay. Why are these Funyuns discarded? Are they discarded, maybe someone put them down to snack on later. Maybe someone spit in them or poured beer on them for some sucker to try and eat. Well, I can feel around with my hand, and if they feel dry, they could be okay. So, holding my beer with my arm against my chest I reach in the bag with my free hand. Well, they feel Funyunny. How about a taste test? I pick a modest sized ring with my fingers and place it slowly within my mouth. Tastes...tastes like...junk food! Well, if they're someone elses, they can smack me and/or ask me to stop eating their Funyuns, otherwise, I'm eating discarded Funyuns. There's love for you yet, in my tummy.

While I begin snacking on stage side found Funyuns, The Bananas begin with their usual banter before cranking out a fast song. I dance about to these familar tunes in my spot, take swigs of my Tecate, and eat a couple Funyuns. As their set continues, the beer runs out and I grow tired of the Funyuns. Noticing a tub with other empty beercans nearby the side of the stage I toss in my own contribution, then stick the remaining bag of junk rings in my messenger bag. This makes the clapping between songs noticably easier. With each song the crowd in front of the stage, hand reaching distance from the band, gets wilder and even falls over upon the drums at one point. One of the cymbal stands get knocked over and appeared to get broken, but was quickly replaced by another band's drummer grabbing his own stand behind the stage and handing it over Scott Banana who was lamenting to the crowd over his broken stand. Another result of the increased ruckus was the crowd of people beside me, mostly women, gathered on the stage in front of me as best their intoxication would allow. Sometimes they blocked my view, but generally just danced about in their new position and when necessary I dodged a free swinging elbow. The nearest girl appologized after making brief contact, with her arm against my head, and I just smiled with a shrug saying, "no problem." True to the end time listed for the show, the band was given a time warning and ended just before 12am rolled about. Once the band finished, people began to filter about, either towards the bar, outside, or just away from the stage, so I kept my place and waited a bit. I wanted to ask Scott Banana if he had cds for his other band The Bright Ideas.

I stand near the stage for a few minutes, watching the small line of people buying Bananas cd going quickly though. A girl I don't recognize walks by me, after picking up a jacket from the stage, and I smile and give her a thumbs up thinking, "hey, you retrived your jacket successfully, hooray." She stops and asks me, after many what's from my deaf ear, if I was in the band. I say no, I'm just waiting to ask them about a cd, then introduce myself to her sticking out my hand. She replies a name, another for the night that I forgot moments later, and we chat a bit about the college since she tells me she applied for nursing. After about a minute she decides to depart, hugs me, and says it was nice to see me again, or meet me. While talking with her I figured she was either drunk or high, because she seemed a bit flighty, but cute, which is why I engaged conversation. A moment later, before she walks off, two guys walk up and she introduces me to one, saying he's her boyfriend. At that he, also appearing to have had some drink, looks at her and me, then says, "Awww, why you gotta introduce me like that, now he's going to pull out a gun and be like 'pow'" and with the gun part he grabs my arm from my pocket and immitates me shooting him. A bit theatrical, but I play along and decline my part of the shooting. I think she tells him something about not having to be violent, then he shakes my hand and gives me a side, bro-ish hug to which I reciprocate and mention that we are actually acting quite loving to one another. They then walk away with friendly good-bye and the other male friend says something to me, which I pretend to understand before he too walks off. I turn back toward the stage and notice Marie Banana was just putting her bass away so I went up and asked her in a form of english, "Hey," both for attention and hello, "do you or Scott have cds for...uh...th...that other band you're in with Scott?" She confirms I am speaking of The Bright Ideas and asks Scott if he has the cds. While he's pulling one out I ask the price, since I only had $3 of the original $15 I brought left over. As I guessed, it was $5, but my real intention was to find out about attaining a cd because as far I knew, the only place to get one was to contact them through their myspace account, but I don't have an account-still refusing to give in-so I was waiting until I ran into one of them. I told Scott my story to apologize for having him dig out a cd and told him if he brings one to the peep off, I'll buy it. So, hopefully he does, cause that night I didn't have enough money, and booze won. I think I told them this too. I talk more freely when I drink.

At some point, possibly before I talked to Scott, the girl from earlier came back to the stage searching for something, then I overhear her asking about a sweater she tossed on the stage. Marie points out a sweater between some speaker in the middle, which are in front of me, so after a pause I pick up the sweater and hand it to my newest name-forgotten friend. She again hugs me and says good-bye. What a hugging couple. I wonder if booze is the infuence? Anyway, after getting my info. on the cd I wanted and promising a later purchase, I say good-bye and walk back toward the front entrance. I sort of keep a look out for my classmate-friend, but didn't see him, so I go out the door into the cool night, groups of people standing around and walking off, and I think, "all these people...and I don't know any of them."
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Well, there's a long entry. I think I petered out at the end, but still it was an interesting night. Especially one to teach me to go out even when I start moping around, because going out is so much more fun, even if I don't get home till nearly 1am. Anyhow, tomorrow is the peep-off and I think I've convinced a handfull of people to come. Whenever I talk about the peep-off I spark people's interest, but when the day comes most shirk it off and must only live on my stories. I mean, there's a peep war every year, how can you not want to be in that? Anyway, I'm saving the remaing months worth of space on my flickr for peep-off pictures, so keep an eye out if you're interested. Also, the above entry gives the full story of the 3 pictures about Funyuns, so hopefully that makes more sense. It entertained me at least.

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