A high school friend of mine showed up unexpectedly to the show on Thursday, and we chatted a bit. We talked about her relationship, which was going on three years (I think). Despite the fact that they both REALLY like each other, she told me that they didn't really have a future together, and were probably going to break up eventually. Apparently eventually is two days later. According to Facebook, that is, which told me yesterday that she is now single. It accompanied that information with a pictorial interpretation of how she must be feeling — a little heart cracked in two. You know the one.
I don't dislike this new simplified version of getting out the news. But a few things struck me. First was the retroactive feeling of being in the know, a retroactively voyeuristic appreciation of our conversation. The second was that I wondered, how long after closing the door on him, or walking away from his stoop, did she think to log on to her computer and check a different box on a website? Does that demonstrate a remarkably short grieving process? She must be pretty confident of it sticking; how embarrassing would it be to change one's Facebook relationship status back to "In a relationship" so soon. And maybe that's a reason to publicize the break-up: a stick to keep oneself from backsliding into a faulty relationship.
The last thing that I thought about was the black and white nature of Facebook's pronouncement. "Single." "In a relationship." Sometimes it's helpful to think of things as simply as possible. (Granted, Facebook does offer the nebulous "It's complicated," but that is so open that it is practically meaningless. "It" might as well refer to "life.") Spending only one word of mental energy on my relationship status leaves me far more time to think about other things. I have enough problems without having to worry about definitions.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Hue.
All of this countryside is reminding me that my favorite color has always been green (specifically, green grass green). Forgive me for being slow, but I just realized that green is just about the most common color in the world, after blue. What does that say about me? And would a person whose favorite color is red prefer it if leaves were red, or if the sky were red? What's your favorite color? Do you have one? It seems kind of childish, and also kind of unfair. I like all sorts of different colors, but I don't think I'd like any of them that much if there weren't the others.
Notes from the road, and an upcoming anniversary.
The first leg of the tour is over. We played Sacramento on Thursday and three straight days in San Francisco. I hear marked improvement through the four shows, which is a good sign. Still a lot of work to do, and a sudden technical problem with my keyboard is stressing me out to no end, but the tour definitely won't be disaster.
We saw a leatherdaddy late on Friday night on Folsom St. in San Francisco. Actually, we saw dozens of leatherdaddies (and a few pairs of asscheeks) but this one stood out because he was using a walker. 70 odd years old, bedecked head to toe in wrinkly skin, back crooked, shuffling down the sidewalk one step at a time. The only thing that could have topped it would have been an octogenarian dominatrix cruising on a Jazzy.
(The band is keeping a blog at http://scotlandbarr.blogspot.com, with contributions from all of us, if you are looking for other perspectives.)
I just hopped on the train from Richmond to Davis. I've taken this train a half dozen times now, and I really enjoy it. It's a quick trip (about an hour – not much longer than by car) and convenient, but more than that it's a fascinating look at the backside of the I-80 corridor. You get to see backyards, back fences. It is a car culture, and people present themselves to the roads, whether through homes or business, factories or parks. Meanwhile, the neglected underside of their lives abuts the railroad tracks. If all the world's a stage, then the train provides a backstage pass.
There is a far more interesting and thorough take on it to be found here: BEATING THE BOUNDS - a UC Davis graduate student's project to walk the length of the line from Oakland to Davis. Perhaps I already blogged about it, but it is worth a second mention.
I have a blog post about beating the bounds in Burgundy, France, that I have been meaning to post for almost a year, and when I write it well, you will read it. It will be great.
That reminds me that this blog is almost one year old. And, coincidentally, I just saw my cousin (with whom I stayed in Paris) again, this time in San Francisco. It all comes together sometimes. The last year has been quite wonderful. Full of wonder. Full of interesting things. Full of change. Perhaps it has been a launching pad – I feel something a-comin'. Something's in the wind. It's like right before Mary Poppins shows up. Or one of those other classic musicals in which everything works out for the best...
We saw a leatherdaddy late on Friday night on Folsom St. in San Francisco. Actually, we saw dozens of leatherdaddies (and a few pairs of asscheeks) but this one stood out because he was using a walker. 70 odd years old, bedecked head to toe in wrinkly skin, back crooked, shuffling down the sidewalk one step at a time. The only thing that could have topped it would have been an octogenarian dominatrix cruising on a Jazzy.
(The band is keeping a blog at http://scotlandbarr.blogspot.com, with contributions from all of us, if you are looking for other perspectives.)
I just hopped on the train from Richmond to Davis. I've taken this train a half dozen times now, and I really enjoy it. It's a quick trip (about an hour – not much longer than by car) and convenient, but more than that it's a fascinating look at the backside of the I-80 corridor. You get to see backyards, back fences. It is a car culture, and people present themselves to the roads, whether through homes or business, factories or parks. Meanwhile, the neglected underside of their lives abuts the railroad tracks. If all the world's a stage, then the train provides a backstage pass.
There is a far more interesting and thorough take on it to be found here: BEATING THE BOUNDS - a UC Davis graduate student's project to walk the length of the line from Oakland to Davis. Perhaps I already blogged about it, but it is worth a second mention.
I have a blog post about beating the bounds in Burgundy, France, that I have been meaning to post for almost a year, and when I write it well, you will read it. It will be great.
That reminds me that this blog is almost one year old. And, coincidentally, I just saw my cousin (with whom I stayed in Paris) again, this time in San Francisco. It all comes together sometimes. The last year has been quite wonderful. Full of wonder. Full of interesting things. Full of change. Perhaps it has been a launching pad – I feel something a-comin'. Something's in the wind. It's like right before Mary Poppins shows up. Or one of those other classic musicals in which everything works out for the best...
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Self-realization.
Okay, I think that I've finally come to terms with the fact that I am not the smartest, most handsome, most talented person in the world, through whom the most good will be visited upon the world; but I just cannot believe that it turned out to be my neighbor Ricky Anderton. What a jerk!
Friday, April 11, 2008
A major life change.
Okay, folks. I've decided to do it. It's something I've thought for a long time about doing, and I think that I am finally convinced. Starting on May 1st, I am going to...
What should Chris do? You make the decision.
a) If you think he should become a vegetarian, turn to page 31.
b) If you think he should switch to boxers, turn to page 63.
c) If you think he should stop swearing, turn to page 64.
d) If you think he should begin wearing contact lenses, turn to page 18.
e) If you think he should measure twice, cut once, turn to page 72.
f) If you think he should become a nomad, turn to page 28.
g) If you think he should move to Los Angeles, turn to page 23.
h) If you think he should shun Republicans, turn to page 79.
i) If you think he should get tested, turn to page 82.
j) If you think he should wake up earlier every day, turn to page 47.
k) If you think he should JUMP! by Van Halen, turn to page 378.
l) If you think he should stop, turn to page 100.
What should Chris do? You make the decision.
a) If you think he should become a vegetarian, turn to page 31.
b) If you think he should switch to boxers, turn to page 63.
c) If you think he should stop swearing, turn to page 64.
d) If you think he should begin wearing contact lenses, turn to page 18.
e) If you think he should measure twice, cut once, turn to page 72.
f) If you think he should become a nomad, turn to page 28.
g) If you think he should move to Los Angeles, turn to page 23.
h) If you think he should shun Republicans, turn to page 79.
i) If you think he should get tested, turn to page 82.
j) If you think he should wake up earlier every day, turn to page 47.
k) If you think he should JUMP! by Van Halen, turn to page 378.
l) If you think he should stop, turn to page 100.
The best thing in the world.
I don't know what it is, but it's not playing squash after a lunch of chicken-fried steak/meatloaf sandwich, mashed potatoes, and orange shake.
South by Southwest.
Last month I was in Austin, Texas, for the SXSW music festival. The count (official or unofficial, I'm not sure) was 1700 bands converging on the city. That's 7500 musicians, at least, not to mention the 1000+ media members and probably over 10,00 fans, all in town for five days. (For the purposes of this blog entry, I shall ignore the concurrent film festival and other media panels, conferences, etc.)
The experience was draining in the best of ways. We arrived in town having driven 38 hours straight from Portland, and immediately headed out to get a feel for the festival – our gig was the next day, and we wanted to be sure that we knew exactly where everything was and how things were happening.
A person can definitely feel overwhelmed by choice. At most times there were at least twenty venues to choose from. As a music fan, I was excited to say the least. If you are like me, you download the schedule, circle everything that intrigues you, and then plan an itinerary that allows for the most music heard (and the least cash spent.) Then you hop a ride into town and begin the day. When your feet can no longer support your weight, you find your way home (a friend of the band was putting us up), plan the next day's musical route, and go to sleep. Repeat. As a result, I did not get a chance to recover from the 38-hour drive. And who could care? I saw a lot of great music, but better than that was being in a place with such a positive musical energy. There was nothing to be down about. It was awesome.
Friday and Saturday followed much like Thursday, except for the few hours late afternoon Friday when we had to prepare for and play our own gig (which went as well as we could have hoped, by the way, and we hoped it would be awesome). By ten or so on Saturday, I could feel my body dip below an energy threshold, and I knew I was done – there were three or four more hours of amazing music to be heard, but I didn't care in the slightest. What sleep that night!
The next day we packed up our stuff and drove an hour out of Austin, to a little Texas roadhouse that was having music all day. It was all country, the good kind, the old-timey sincere kind. We stayed for an hour or so, had two tacos and a beer, and relaxed. It was a perfect capper to the weekend. Then we hopped back in the van and headed west, towards home. Another marathon drive, with no excitement awaiting us, but it was easy. I can't speak for the rest of the guys, but I was still high and wide-eyed from the weekend experience. The fellas dropped me off in Los Angeles, and I spent the next few days readjusting, just in time to hit the road again with Scott Fisher...
Who I heard (in chronological order): Eleni Mandell, Bodies of Water, The Evangelicals, Bon Iver, Jens Lekman, Lykke Li, The Weakerthans, Kaki King, Casey Neill, The Lucky Tomblin Band, Colin Gilmore, Daniel Lanois, Tapes 'n Tapes, The Watson Twins, Billy Bragg w/ Kate Nash, Chuck Prophet, Jandek, Liam Finn, Carbon/Silicon, Laura Gibson
Who I missed (in no order): She & Him (M. Ward & Zooey Deschanel), M. Ward solo, Okkervil River, Jacob Golden, Destroyer, White Denim, The Raveonettes, Mika Miko, Karl Blau, Bobby Bare Jr., Devotchka, Blitzen Trapper, N.E.R.D., Tilly and the Wall, Roky Erikson, Black Moth Super Rainbow
The experience was draining in the best of ways. We arrived in town having driven 38 hours straight from Portland, and immediately headed out to get a feel for the festival – our gig was the next day, and we wanted to be sure that we knew exactly where everything was and how things were happening.
A person can definitely feel overwhelmed by choice. At most times there were at least twenty venues to choose from. As a music fan, I was excited to say the least. If you are like me, you download the schedule, circle everything that intrigues you, and then plan an itinerary that allows for the most music heard (and the least cash spent.) Then you hop a ride into town and begin the day. When your feet can no longer support your weight, you find your way home (a friend of the band was putting us up), plan the next day's musical route, and go to sleep. Repeat. As a result, I did not get a chance to recover from the 38-hour drive. And who could care? I saw a lot of great music, but better than that was being in a place with such a positive musical energy. There was nothing to be down about. It was awesome.
Friday and Saturday followed much like Thursday, except for the few hours late afternoon Friday when we had to prepare for and play our own gig (which went as well as we could have hoped, by the way, and we hoped it would be awesome). By ten or so on Saturday, I could feel my body dip below an energy threshold, and I knew I was done – there were three or four more hours of amazing music to be heard, but I didn't care in the slightest. What sleep that night!
The next day we packed up our stuff and drove an hour out of Austin, to a little Texas roadhouse that was having music all day. It was all country, the good kind, the old-timey sincere kind. We stayed for an hour or so, had two tacos and a beer, and relaxed. It was a perfect capper to the weekend. Then we hopped back in the van and headed west, towards home. Another marathon drive, with no excitement awaiting us, but it was easy. I can't speak for the rest of the guys, but I was still high and wide-eyed from the weekend experience. The fellas dropped me off in Los Angeles, and I spent the next few days readjusting, just in time to hit the road again with Scott Fisher...
Who I heard (in chronological order): Eleni Mandell, Bodies of Water, The Evangelicals, Bon Iver, Jens Lekman, Lykke Li, The Weakerthans, Kaki King, Casey Neill, The Lucky Tomblin Band, Colin Gilmore, Daniel Lanois, Tapes 'n Tapes, The Watson Twins, Billy Bragg w/ Kate Nash, Chuck Prophet, Jandek, Liam Finn, Carbon/Silicon, Laura Gibson
Who I missed (in no order): She & Him (M. Ward & Zooey Deschanel), M. Ward solo, Okkervil River, Jacob Golden, Destroyer, White Denim, The Raveonettes, Mika Miko, Karl Blau, Bobby Bare Jr., Devotchka, Blitzen Trapper, N.E.R.D., Tilly and the Wall, Roky Erikson, Black Moth Super Rainbow
Friday, April 4, 2008
Migration (Scott Fisher tour post).
In Southeastern Oregon we were witness to a great migration of tumbleweeds, heading south across I-84. Many were caught by the highway barrier and bounced around like guttered bowling balls, while the largest hopped over and the smallest skipped through to continue their journey towards the snowcapped hills. I wonder how far they will get.
A little tour update: I've been on the road now for two weeks as part of Scott Fisher's band, 1 a.m. Approach. We started in Los Angeles, and have played Bend, Portland, Mt. Hood, Sandpoint, Kalispell/Lakeside, and now we head to Boise for two nights to finish up. It's easy to forget how much space there is in this country. Thousands of square miles of nothing but railroad tracks and powerlines snaking across hills and plains, connecting one clump of people to the next. No one fights over this land anymore.
As much as we like to think (or hate to think) that we humans have subjugated the earth, a highway is proof of compromise. The road snakes along valleys, around hills. Cars and trucks still have to struggle up steep climbs, nature's way of making us earn our freedom from local constraint. To get from Sandpoint, Idaho to Boise, Idaho, we have driven through Washington and Oregon. (Those two states share a straight border with Idaho, for those of you who don't care to know things until I tell you.) That is the route that nature lets us pass most quickly.
We have shitty cell phone reception out here. 100 years ago, we wouldn't have noticed. 100? 10. 5. Next year I will bemoan the fact that I can't log onto the internet from this nowhereness. Unless, of course, I will be able to. What will we bemoan then?
The gigs have been good. Even the bad ones have been good. We've played to packed sweaty houses, and tiny but attentive sitters. That sounds like we were playing to mice. You know what I mean. At Mt. Hood Meadows we played to the afternoon crowd of hungry skiers, who surely didn't expect us to be there. In Bend we played to families that were looking a solid out-of-town band bringing a different quality of music than they could find normally. In Sandpoint we played for the twelve people who were friends with the owner of the wine cellar. In Hermosa Beach we played for the twenty-something beach meat-market, as well as the forty-somethings looking for the same thing.
A little tour update: I've been on the road now for two weeks as part of Scott Fisher's band, 1 a.m. Approach. We started in Los Angeles, and have played Bend, Portland, Mt. Hood, Sandpoint, Kalispell/Lakeside, and now we head to Boise for two nights to finish up. It's easy to forget how much space there is in this country. Thousands of square miles of nothing but railroad tracks and powerlines snaking across hills and plains, connecting one clump of people to the next. No one fights over this land anymore.
As much as we like to think (or hate to think) that we humans have subjugated the earth, a highway is proof of compromise. The road snakes along valleys, around hills. Cars and trucks still have to struggle up steep climbs, nature's way of making us earn our freedom from local constraint. To get from Sandpoint, Idaho to Boise, Idaho, we have driven through Washington and Oregon. (Those two states share a straight border with Idaho, for those of you who don't care to know things until I tell you.) That is the route that nature lets us pass most quickly.
We have shitty cell phone reception out here. 100 years ago, we wouldn't have noticed. 100? 10. 5. Next year I will bemoan the fact that I can't log onto the internet from this nowhereness. Unless, of course, I will be able to. What will we bemoan then?
The gigs have been good. Even the bad ones have been good. We've played to packed sweaty houses, and tiny but attentive sitters. That sounds like we were playing to mice. You know what I mean. At Mt. Hood Meadows we played to the afternoon crowd of hungry skiers, who surely didn't expect us to be there. In Bend we played to families that were looking a solid out-of-town band bringing a different quality of music than they could find normally. In Sandpoint we played for the twelve people who were friends with the owner of the wine cellar. In Hermosa Beach we played for the twenty-something beach meat-market, as well as the forty-somethings looking for the same thing.
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