Snake Oil For Your Butt

Well, that was a pleasant surprise. Atomic Burrito is a closet in which people feed on burritos the size of small elephants. After 10pm, it magically turns into a smoke filled bar. All indications pointed to a potentially horrible show. Atomic Burrito is tiny, doesn't have a stage, doesn't seem particularly well suited for shows, I hadn't heard any good news from other bands playing there, and it was a cold rainy night. However, the show was a success!

This is how I measure success:
1. Free steak burrito.
2. Wireless internet to entertain the cranky wife.
3. By several accounts, the best sound we've ever had at a show.
4. A nice audience that didn't leave or cover their ears. They didn't dance, but that's because the venue is better suited to leaning in a drunken stupor against the wall or the tall tables.
5. Playing for over an hour.
6. Sexy bar tender that krasota failed to bring home.
7. Free steak burrito into which I stuffed the sexy bar tender. I smuggled her out of the building. I got half way to Water Street before the rain made the tortilla wrapping too soggy to hold her inside. She fell through the wrap and hit the street on a cushion of sour cream and salsa. I decided to let her go. This time.

Thanks to rozzgoth for working the sound. The lack of a serious house sound system at the venue worked to our advantage. We brought several amps with us. We had separate amps for the three of us and the backing track. It seemed to give better control and much clearer sound, probably because all the sounds weren't competing to come out of the same speakers. It worked well for that tiny space, but it's probably not something we'll be able to do often. But I wouldn't mind doing it again at the Atomic Burrito. I like it when people can hear me.

We have another show this Saturday.

Who ever said it was a good idea to take college classes, work full time, buy a house, move to this house, travel to San Francisco, take voice lessons, and continue to maintain a regular practice and performance schedule with a band, all at pretty much the same time commencing roughly this past winter, wasn't entirely crazy. Maybe a little bit. But I survived and feel pretty good. The final exam for my class yesterday marked the end of this slightly crazy time. Bring on summer vacation.

I think the exam went well. There is one highlight worth mentioning.

Overall, University of Virginia kids are a fairly homogeneous bunch. Slightly conservative, dressing from nice colorful T-shirt & jeans to the business casual you might find in an office. In the school of engineering, the students consist primarily of white males. So, when someone stands out in this group, I am easily intrigued. I'm sure many in this undergrad class were looking at me wondering, "Who's that unshaven old guy with the long hair and black clothes?" "Working professional" probably doesn't top the list. While I'd like them to think "rock star," they're probably guessing "burn out who finally got his priorities straight and is returning to school."

Anyway, another guy caught my attention. Picture a tiny chinese guy who looks about 15 years old. He's skinny, bespectacled, and pale (well, pale for a chinese guy). He dresses in over-sized business casual. The kid may even have a pocket protector, but I think that's just my wishful imagination. He moves quickly and walks with a hunched posture that suggests he's still anticipating a beating from the school bully at any given moment. We shared a computer architecture class in the Fall. After two semesters, I got the sense that he's real smart, or at least real dedicated to school. I considered his chip architecture design to be a work of art and I'm generally not geeky enough to be turned on by such things.

So, yesterday, it's final exam time. Everyone in the class has the test and we're hunkered down, filling in scantron bubbles with intensity. All of us want to finish early and go home while still managing to do well, so we're fast, furious, and quiet. Above all, quiet and totally absorbed with the papers on the tables in front of us. An hour into the scheduled exam period, the door to the classroom bursts open. The little chinese guy is standing in the doorway with an absolutely shell-shocked expression on his face. The kid looks like he had just been caught with his pants down in the professor's daughter's bedroom after a long night drinking Shirley Temples spiked with vodka and he had run all the way to class, holding up his pants with one hand and waving away bully attacks with the other. He stands for a full minute, swaying on his heels, one hand compulsively running through his hair in that "oh-my-god-what-have-done" gesture, and occasionally grinning in a guilty way that said, "I really shouldn't have agreed to play doctor with the professor's daughter last night." We're all looking at him, respectfully trying not to laugh while we fill in more scantron bubbles. Eventually, he turns toward the teacher's assistant and jumps a bit in surprise at a sudden understanding of what it is he's supposed to be doing. He runs to the TA, grabs the test materials, and scurries to an empty seat in the classroom.

Probably, you had to be there. But it was a priceless moment for me. I left the exam room rather late and he was still there pounding away at it, one of five students left in the room. However, there was still an hour left to go in the allotted time, so I'm sure he still did well.

Damn it. I'm a bit annoyed with myself and with some uncontrollable circumstances. Due to some poorly timed commitments to the living and some unexpected problems at work, I needed to miss the funeral service for Andrea Robbins (melodiousdrone). Honestly, I don't really know Andrea, but that doesn't make her passing less significant to me because there are people that I know and love that are close to her. I really wanted to be there for them, too.

Farewell, Andrea. I have heard many good stories about you, but I never heard you sing.

HA HA I suck. The good news is the Satellite Ballroom is smoke-free. The bad news is Melt Banana plays tomorrow. So, I drank a beer and listened to some hippie jam band. The one arabic jam with drum & percussion solos was worth the $3. I think I was actually the only person there not in one of the two bands, a family member of the guys in the bands, or an employees of the venue. It amused me that a large portion of the paying audience (me) was accidentally there because he thought the hardcore show was tonight. Tomorrow, I try again. Four concerts in one week.

Wow. Last night was the most fun I've had at one of my band's shows in...well...perhaps forever. We played second, which was a bonus. The energy is totally different. The audience is drunker and they're already pumped up by the first band. Speaking of which, Dead New Year is a hard act to follow. rat_bastard, fiendmorte, and the other guys who may or may not be on LJ truly death-rocked the house with their songs about killing. I had been looking forward to them ever since rat_bastard shared some early versions of the songs. I was not disappointed. The audience was doing the typical opening band routine of standing still and bobbing heads, but half way into their set the floor suddenly erupted into chaos. Gotta love that good old new wave dancing, with the pushing and punching and bloodletting. I think I even saw a genuine injury take someone out. I'm too delicate for such antics, but I always appreciate a good pit from afar. This one was small, but enthusiastic. And Dead New Year's Danzig cover sounded great.

With that kind of energy in the crowd, it was easy to take the stage. Usually, I need to fight my propensity for standing still while playing. But last night I had to be careful I didn't move too much. Sometimes I get on stage and get distracted by shiny things or figure out how far away from the keyboards I can go and still reach them. Technically, it wasn't my best performance, but it was a lot of fun. Although I nailed most of the older songs, even when I was temporarily blind from watery smoke filled eyes during the first song. The new ones required more concentration. But, as Thelonious Monk once said, "There is no wrong note, it has to do with how you resolve it." That is generally how I approach playing music.

It was great playing a longer set than usual, especially since the energy was so good. I should note our intro music included the Numa Numa Dance song... Oh dear, soo silly... but used well, I think. What's a goth rock show without a little Romanian pop music?

Many good conversations were had before and after. I enjoyed seeing so many people from Charlottesville and Richmond and even points further away. eilonwy took time from her busy schedule to ride with us to and from the show. There was a xiane there, too! All the way from Maryland. agentleman came all the way from England. Ok, not really. But this is the first time I've seen him since his return to Virginia. xzar was a nice surprise, his college is closer to Richmond than I realized. Thanks to nonelf for spending too much money on his car to make the drive with nannar. Thanks to daq42 and blackradish for organizing the event. It was good to see the tradition, perhaps accidentally maintained, of mrjustice being one of the DJs for our headlining gigs. And none of this would be possible without the ladies, especially krasota, aleiphein, and aleiphein's LJ-less sister. Anyway, it was one of those nights when it feels lovely to participate in a music community. Good audience, good artists. Many people there could claim to be both.

This afternoon we received large wooden crates in the mail. They arrived at our house after traveling from Salt Lake City, but they originated in Islamabad. They contain our hand-crafted end tables lovingly created by Pakistani urchins..er, rather, artisans. I know you won't believe me if I say we ordered them online, so I'll tell the truth.

Last summer, on a whim, I led an expedition to the summit of Mt. Godwin-Auste, otherwise known as K2. The most deadly mountain in the world proved no match for a handful of guys high on opium. We ululated and banged tambourines all the way to the top, hauling a nice living room set with us as our only creature comfort. The descent was less of a joy ride and more of an avalanche. It was a disaster. The sofa was buried under thousands of pounds of snow. The coffee table--shattered by boulders. We left the love seat at the summit (because of a nasty stain and torn upholstery). The Ikea end tables slid right off the edge of a cliff. If not for some quick thinking and creative use of several ottomans, my team and I would have died. We put the mountain behind us, but were saddened by our loss. We dragged our heels through Kashmir, stopping only to negotiate a peace treaty, before making our way to Islamabad in search of furniture. It was there that we located a band of street urchins renowned for their furniture making skills. We replaced each lost item and each member of my party selected pieces to retain as mementos of our expedition. I chose the end tables, for which I found some rustic packing crates, and shipped them back to Virginia. Now, I'm resting with my feet propped up on them, wondering how to drown a fish.

I saw this movie once about a christmas tree that was a door to door insurance salesman. One day, this gorgeous oak tree opens the door wearing only a few well placed leaves. She agrees to buy insurance for her husband, a Hemlock tree with a wandering eye, if Mr. Christmas Tree agrees to help her kill him. Christmas can't help himself, his lights are blinking and his balls are quivering. He cross pollinates with the lady oak. She mail orders some asian woolly adelgid beetles and dumps them on her Mr. Hemlock in his sleep. Those beetles go to town, chewing him up. She runs off with Mr. Christmas.

One day, after going downtown to see the play "Into The Woods", they are walking home to their new urban apartment. Our pair of trees is accosted by a bum who lurches out of an alley. It's Mr. Hemlock, barely recognizable, branches broken and bark all grey and eaten. "If you're going to cover a man with asian woolly adelgid beetles, you better make sure he's dead before you leave him." Christmas dives at Hemlock. They wrestle on the side walk. The fight spills into the street. People are running and screaming. An angry apple tree pauses to throw it's own apples at the fighting pair. Suddenly, a sleepy bus driver plows right into the trees, scattering limbs everywhere. Oh the humanity! Wait...that's not quite right. Anyway, Lady Oak runs from the scene and spends the rest of her life hiding in the city's central park, killing squirrels for food and tripping joggers at dawn.

I don't remember circumstances surrounding my consenting to playing a show in Norfolk, but if I had known I would be moving to a new house and trying to finish painting rooms at the same time I'm not sure I would have agreed. The wife and I were in very pissy moods on Friday--not enough sleep, more painting to be a done, a one-way 2.5 hour drive to Norfolk, and then back again because there was more house work to be done and a greater chance of finding food that wouldn't kill either of us at home. At the outset, I was just going to be happy if I could escape Norfolk with out being beat up by guys from the military base for wearing unpolished combat boots.

However, the evening turned out well. We originally hadn't planned to stay the whole night, but ended up staying through all three bands. Silent Muse opened for Void Stares Back (local to Norfolk) and In Tenebris (Charlottesville band that deserves a lot more attention).

So far, I am only accustomed to playing dirty bars that ought to be condemned, so I was skeptical when I found out we were playing a club inside Jillians, a commercial chain party/arcade/restaurant joint. Seriously bizarre. The place was beautiful and clean. Nice cushioned furniture. An entire wall of windows looking out over the Elizabeth river on which barges and ferryboats drifted by. But people showed up and seemed to enjoy the show. And most of them did not seem to be drunk, curious military personnel. Apparently, there is enough of a scene there for underground music to have enabled the place to make money off the show (even after paying the bands fairly well for our time). On top of all this, the promoter was a damn fine guy. He really was enthusiastic about the event and truly seemed to appreciate the opportunity to be our host as much as we appreciated the invite to play a show.

Our set went well. Not amazing, but not bad. We received some hearty cheers now and then, which is always nice. I haven't had anything thrown at me yet. Void Stares Back did a fine job with their laid back, trip hoppy goth goodness. If my observations are accurate, I think they may have had the largest audience of the evening. Probably a combination of the time and being the local band and being preeety dang good. In Tenebris did an awesome job, as usual. Their sound was great. I heard more nuances of the layers of sound in the songs than usual, although their vocalist was apparently rather ill. But she pulled it off. I doubt anyone really noticed. I've listened to her sing several times with the band (and we share a vocal teacher so perhaps I have an insider's perspective on her style), so I did catch on that she was having some trouble. However, she only impressed me more having been able to sing through that.

I cut out a little early, shortly after the last band ended. I napped through torrential down pours on the way home. Got to bed at 5am, which wasn't too shabby considering the evening's plans. I probably owe krasota a million foot rubs for this weekend though.

I have a love/hate relationship with exercise. This is an improvement over my hate/hate relationship that I had for most of my life until a few years ago. With enough distance from the demoralizing physical fitness education in our schools, the discovery of exercise routines that appeal to me, and learning a lot of theories & facts behind how exercise and the body actually works, my stubborn and skeptical mind has finally conceded to the advice of doctors everywhere: exersize is essential for good health.

( But that doesn't make it any easier. )

After signing for the car I rented today while our Buick was in for repairs, I headed for I-64. I wanted to take the rental, a black Chevy Cavalier, out on the highway. But I drove past the entrance to 64. I just kept driving East on 250. I didn't want to stop as the road narrowed and the trees grew thicker around me. This was the first time I'd left the house since Wednesday evening. I have been sick since before then and finally locked myself inside for the long Thanksgiving weekend. Consequently, I felt such a joyous sense of freedom in that car. I wanted to keep on driving. I'd drive until I hit Richmond.

However, while I took the day off work as I'm still recovering from this illness, I did intend to go to my class at the university. So, I turned around, picking up 64 further east, and headed for home. Then, going west, I just wanted to keep on driving until I hit the mountains. But I didn't. Not yet. I went to class. When I got home, I decided to seize the day. Or the early evening, at least. I had lost my entire Thanksgiving holiday weekend to a terrible sore throat and various other symptoms of a nasty virus. I needed at least a few hours of a real vacation before returning to work. Screw the bills, the homework, and the pile of dishes waiting for me. I grabbed some leftover cold turkey, a granola bar, and single slice of brown rice bread; filled a water bottle; grabbed an Ego Likeness CD and also one by Lacrimosa; and I got back in the car.

I drove west. Back on I-64. I drove west until I hit the mountains. At the outset, I realized that I have never made a trip outside of Charlottesville alone. At least none that I can remember. I'm so bound to my wife (glady, I should add), that I never leave town without her. It has probably been about 5 years since I've taken a car out by myself with a destination in mind further away than a local grocery store. This would have been when I was still driving my red Chevy Cavalier that I had inherited from my grandmother toward the end of my college days, before we started using my wife's stick-shift. I couldn't drive stick. Still can't. At first, I actually felt a little nervous when this realization set in, which is not unusual for me when I'm encountering something new. What if I wrecked the rental? What if I missed a turn? I'm usually terrible with directions, but I've driven this road to the mountains countless times now. Before long, I was relaxed.

I hit Waynesboro and got on the Blue Ridge Parkway as the sun was going down. I twisted and turned for a several miles with the music blaring, resisting the urge to sing because my throat still hurt. I stopped at the Raven's Roost overlook. It was empty. Just me, the mountain-side, and the valley below. I ate my dinner inside the warm car. I stepped out to throw away my trash and stayed outside. The last time I was at this overlook, it had been bone chilling cold. Tonight, there was no wind and it felt warm in comparison. I climbed on the rock cliff and watched the lights in the valley blink on as the light above faded from the cloudy sky. This is living, I thought. I was glad I made the trip, despite being sick. Despite the pile of dishes at home. The homework waiting to be done. The check book to balance. No...this was living. Doing something I hadn't done before. A lonely, spontaneous mountain trip.

Feeling philosophical, my mind churned over my place on this earth. I remembered being lost, all too recently. I lost myself. So, I started looking for me. Trying new things, attempting to make connections with new things in order to define myself again. In time, I found new goals and activities I enjoy, but it turns out they don't define my purpose. The way I figure it, the very act of searching for new things is how I define myself now. Change is inevitable, so why not embrace it? Always be on the look out for new opportunities and activities. Don't define myself through those activities, but rather through the process by which I discover them and explore them. Some will appeal to me, some will not. There will be successes and failures. This, to me, just sounds like living. What better purpose is there in this life?