Saturday, July 31, 2004
Last Friday
It's been a while since I've let loose and been out with the crew. I finally found a weekend that wasn't gobbled up by stupid-head work. So, of course, I went wild. Seeing live music has always been a passion of mine. It's fallen to the wayside, because I need to pay the bills - man, what a system the rat race has become.
Friday, Jen and I went down to Santa Cruz and met up with all of our friends to see Sector 9 play at the Catalyst. Sound Tribe Sector 9 is evolutionary, like no other band I've witnessed. I've seen them play since 1998, and each time they're better and better - which seems impossible, because after each show my body is tingling with hair standing on end, and in my mind's eye I see a ticker tape passing by: "Best Show in Town". Just sitting here writing about them gives me goose bumps. It's hard to describe their sound, since there's really nothing like it. I can hear influences from Radiohead, Sigur Rus, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, and various jam band flavorings. But to formulate Sector 9's sound into words is impossible – not to be cliché. If classical music transcended from the opera house into the electric medium, it would find itself spawned from the unified minds of Sector 9. They truly compose, and their music takes you on a trip from soft giggly feelings to tears from sad, forgotten memories to intense enlightenment.
Friday night listening to Sector 9, I felt myself uplifted where the laws of physics and math no longer explained the rotation of my world. An ethereal wave splashed over my body, and I saw the sparks of lightning bugs popping up behind my eyelids. "Have you ever been to a revivalist's meeting? I betcha don' even know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Well, you're in one right now." Back in her prime, Nina Simone asked her audience this question when singing "Children Go Where I Send You". When leaving the Catalyst that night, I felt I heard the holiest of sermons. Can I get a witness, oh Lord? Forget about church on Sunday, I already went Friday night.
Jen and I got into Santa Cruz late Friday night. The band had already started, and there was still a long line out the door. We somehow obtained rock star parking right in front of the venue but had to scare off some dread-headed kids to acquire it. If there's one thing I could do without, when going to see live music, it would be these damn little hippie kids whose mothers never taught them manners and whose occupation consists of panhandling, number one, and the selling of non-functional glass pipes, number two. When the show was over, a bunch of them were camped on and by my car, selling said products and playing their drums and didgeridoo. Actually these guys were pretty nice, and their glassware seemed of good quality. Dawn, my best friend, played the didgeridoo for just a little, and all the hippie kids were pretty impressed that such a straight looking girl could chant so well. Dawn used to be a hippie, and now she despises them.
Before Jen and I entered the venue, we needed to down our mushroom shakes. If you wanna know a good and tasty way of consuming mushrooms, listen closely. A friend of mine informed me of this recipe last Halloween, and I've never gone back to the common delivery systems of tea or chocolates or peanut butter. You simply throw your mushrooms into a blender with the following edibles: frozen fruit, include those with citrus; any fruit juice, preferably orange or grapefruit; ice cream is optional, especially if shake goes without refrigeration for a substantial amount of time before being drunk; and a little vanilla flavoring, also optional. The citrus part is key. The acid helps the toxins from the mushrooms enter the blood stream faster - instead of waiting a good hour or so for the mushrooms to take hold, you're looking at approximately 15 to 30 minutes before blossoming takes place. Mmmm good...
Being the glutton I am, I downed my shake within 15 minutes. Jen was pretty hesitant - she's had some pretty bad trips on mushrooms, and she wasn't feeling 100% that night. I've had a couple of bad trips, as well. But I feel seasoned and have learned to remind myself, while tripping, that I'm supposed to feel like I'm going out of my mind. However, a true seasoned tripper would know that taking too much will cause you to forget to remind yourself of whatever it is you're supposed to remember... Anyway, Jen didn't finish all of her shake, so I took the remainder :) ----> 8)~
Well, my friends, it would be an understatement if I told you that it took every ounce of self control for me to hang on to my shit by the time set break came around. What was worse was that I kept bumping into various friends that I hadn't seen in a while. My mouth couldn't decide if it wanted to smile, frown, or drop open in a stupefied manner. My lips were quivering, and I was truly getting upset that they couldn't figure out a resting place. Actually, snarling seemed to be the best position for my trembling lips. Dawn, Jen, and I went outside and sat on the grassy median that was separating the two directions of the road in front of the venue. It was an oasis, and we were surrounded by asphalt on which little hippies skated to and fro, yelling to one another in the way that they do.
At first, I thought I was solo in my mushroom madness and was scared to inform the others. Don't ask me why I was scared - I just was. Looking at Jen, I realized she'd stumbled onto the path of looney tunes and hob noblers, as well. Were the leaves of the trees blowing in a wind that I could not feel or were they waving at me? While sitting on the fuzzy grass and burning my jeans with a forgotten cigarette, I started to remember all the tricks of keeping your shit together while on 'shrooms. Remember to pee - you need to release those toxins and not let them stew in your bladder. Mostly, it's allowing room for more toxins to be released from your blood stream. Well, this is my theory anyway, and it works when I put my mind to it. Also make sure to drink plenty of water and eat an energy bar of some sort. Upon remembering the rules played by a seasoned tripper, I felt a tidal wave of relief saturate me. Yay - I remembered!! A seasoned pro, I is!!
With this new found relief, my lips stopped quivering and found a new home within a smile. I rushed to the car, only 25 feet away, to get a balance bar and water. I came back to the welcoming island in the center of the road, plopped down by Jen, and found serenity wherever I looked. Hello, glorious world with your bright colors and beautiful dread-headed fairies floating about with their glass flutes!! Hello! As I was basking in the warmth of my discovery, the cops came by with their bullhorns telling us to please leave the median. Actually, I don't think they used the word please. The Santa Cruz police are not the most peaceful of peace keepers, as witnessed later that night. After the show, their form of crowd control consisted of growling dogs. I shake my head at this and wonder how power became so popular - how and why?
Anyway, Jen, Dawn, and I congregated over by my car, along with all of the other hippies leaning against it - glad I could provide refuge. Jodi stopped by - Jodi is a celebrity within the jam band music scene. She's very beautiful and quite a character - anyone who frequents live music shows within San Francisco has seen Jodi and probably heard her Chicago flavored voice. Jen and I were still tripping hard, and my mind was remembering the spinning tea cups at Disney World and how I was glad I wasn't in one at the moment. Set break was over, and Sector 9 was revving up their engine - they were ready to take their audience for a ride. Jen and I had to muster up our mustard to set foot into a closed-in space with sweat filled air. Could I do it without losing my marbles? Might as well.
As expressed previously in this entry, Sector 9 gave quite a performance. I was blown away in my own little world, eyes closed, and my body moving without any effort. Oh hallelujah, Amen!! No one could talk to me during the show, because I wasn't home. Knock, knock - can Carrie come out to play? She's already playing, come back in an hour. The stage was beautiful. Rob, Jen's boyfriend, is the set designer for Sector 9: Robert Newell. One of his sculptures was hanging above the stage, and his flower arrangements made every girl blush. He gave me a sunflower at the end of the show - I definitely felt a part of the chosen ones. Later, I gave it to a guy who wanted it for his girlfriend - he said it would make her feel pretty. Well, since it made me feel blessed, I thought it was only decent to spread the love. God, I felt to so goddamn good after that show - down and dirty, 'til I'm clean again. Can I get a witness??!!
I was the happiest I had been in, well… I can't remember when. I was ready to give back. In the past month, I’ve been thinking of a career change. So far I’ve contemplated the following professions: lounge singer (just need to take some singing lessons to get my technical ability up to par – I already have the seasoning down); writer (it’s just that I write about nothing – is there a demand for nothing?); and civil rights attorney. Civil liberties has always been a deep interest of mine (check this link out: civilliberty.about.com), and ever since 9th grade I wondered what the hell was up with the electoral college. To see its fall in my lifetime would be a total fulfillment. You know why Bush is president? The electoral college is why. After the show, I felt motivated for a change. I still feel the motivation, but I also feel the fear.
At the end of the night, Jen, Rob, and I headed to the beach, after Rob’s stuff was all packed up. We spent the night under a blanket of fog covering the ocean. I woke to the sandy footsteps of dedicated surfers in the early morning. I felt good, even though my sleep was thin. Friday night gave birth to a wonderful Saturday. The happiness of last weekend has become diluted, but it still resonates. It’s time to develop a plan of action.
Friday, Jen and I went down to Santa Cruz and met up with all of our friends to see Sector 9 play at the Catalyst. Sound Tribe Sector 9 is evolutionary, like no other band I've witnessed. I've seen them play since 1998, and each time they're better and better - which seems impossible, because after each show my body is tingling with hair standing on end, and in my mind's eye I see a ticker tape passing by: "Best Show in Town". Just sitting here writing about them gives me goose bumps. It's hard to describe their sound, since there's really nothing like it. I can hear influences from Radiohead, Sigur Rus, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, and various jam band flavorings. But to formulate Sector 9's sound into words is impossible – not to be cliché. If classical music transcended from the opera house into the electric medium, it would find itself spawned from the unified minds of Sector 9. They truly compose, and their music takes you on a trip from soft giggly feelings to tears from sad, forgotten memories to intense enlightenment.
Friday night listening to Sector 9, I felt myself uplifted where the laws of physics and math no longer explained the rotation of my world. An ethereal wave splashed over my body, and I saw the sparks of lightning bugs popping up behind my eyelids. "Have you ever been to a revivalist's meeting? I betcha don' even know what I'm talkin' 'bout. Well, you're in one right now." Back in her prime, Nina Simone asked her audience this question when singing "Children Go Where I Send You". When leaving the Catalyst that night, I felt I heard the holiest of sermons. Can I get a witness, oh Lord? Forget about church on Sunday, I already went Friday night.
Jen and I got into Santa Cruz late Friday night. The band had already started, and there was still a long line out the door. We somehow obtained rock star parking right in front of the venue but had to scare off some dread-headed kids to acquire it. If there's one thing I could do without, when going to see live music, it would be these damn little hippie kids whose mothers never taught them manners and whose occupation consists of panhandling, number one, and the selling of non-functional glass pipes, number two. When the show was over, a bunch of them were camped on and by my car, selling said products and playing their drums and didgeridoo. Actually these guys were pretty nice, and their glassware seemed of good quality. Dawn, my best friend, played the didgeridoo for just a little, and all the hippie kids were pretty impressed that such a straight looking girl could chant so well. Dawn used to be a hippie, and now she despises them.
Before Jen and I entered the venue, we needed to down our mushroom shakes. If you wanna know a good and tasty way of consuming mushrooms, listen closely. A friend of mine informed me of this recipe last Halloween, and I've never gone back to the common delivery systems of tea or chocolates or peanut butter. You simply throw your mushrooms into a blender with the following edibles: frozen fruit, include those with citrus; any fruit juice, preferably orange or grapefruit; ice cream is optional, especially if shake goes without refrigeration for a substantial amount of time before being drunk; and a little vanilla flavoring, also optional. The citrus part is key. The acid helps the toxins from the mushrooms enter the blood stream faster - instead of waiting a good hour or so for the mushrooms to take hold, you're looking at approximately 15 to 30 minutes before blossoming takes place. Mmmm good...
Being the glutton I am, I downed my shake within 15 minutes. Jen was pretty hesitant - she's had some pretty bad trips on mushrooms, and she wasn't feeling 100% that night. I've had a couple of bad trips, as well. But I feel seasoned and have learned to remind myself, while tripping, that I'm supposed to feel like I'm going out of my mind. However, a true seasoned tripper would know that taking too much will cause you to forget to remind yourself of whatever it is you're supposed to remember... Anyway, Jen didn't finish all of her shake, so I took the remainder :) ----> 8)~
Well, my friends, it would be an understatement if I told you that it took every ounce of self control for me to hang on to my shit by the time set break came around. What was worse was that I kept bumping into various friends that I hadn't seen in a while. My mouth couldn't decide if it wanted to smile, frown, or drop open in a stupefied manner. My lips were quivering, and I was truly getting upset that they couldn't figure out a resting place. Actually, snarling seemed to be the best position for my trembling lips. Dawn, Jen, and I went outside and sat on the grassy median that was separating the two directions of the road in front of the venue. It was an oasis, and we were surrounded by asphalt on which little hippies skated to and fro, yelling to one another in the way that they do.
At first, I thought I was solo in my mushroom madness and was scared to inform the others. Don't ask me why I was scared - I just was. Looking at Jen, I realized she'd stumbled onto the path of looney tunes and hob noblers, as well. Were the leaves of the trees blowing in a wind that I could not feel or were they waving at me? While sitting on the fuzzy grass and burning my jeans with a forgotten cigarette, I started to remember all the tricks of keeping your shit together while on 'shrooms. Remember to pee - you need to release those toxins and not let them stew in your bladder. Mostly, it's allowing room for more toxins to be released from your blood stream. Well, this is my theory anyway, and it works when I put my mind to it. Also make sure to drink plenty of water and eat an energy bar of some sort. Upon remembering the rules played by a seasoned tripper, I felt a tidal wave of relief saturate me. Yay - I remembered!! A seasoned pro, I is!!
With this new found relief, my lips stopped quivering and found a new home within a smile. I rushed to the car, only 25 feet away, to get a balance bar and water. I came back to the welcoming island in the center of the road, plopped down by Jen, and found serenity wherever I looked. Hello, glorious world with your bright colors and beautiful dread-headed fairies floating about with their glass flutes!! Hello! As I was basking in the warmth of my discovery, the cops came by with their bullhorns telling us to please leave the median. Actually, I don't think they used the word please. The Santa Cruz police are not the most peaceful of peace keepers, as witnessed later that night. After the show, their form of crowd control consisted of growling dogs. I shake my head at this and wonder how power became so popular - how and why?
Anyway, Jen, Dawn, and I congregated over by my car, along with all of the other hippies leaning against it - glad I could provide refuge. Jodi stopped by - Jodi is a celebrity within the jam band music scene. She's very beautiful and quite a character - anyone who frequents live music shows within San Francisco has seen Jodi and probably heard her Chicago flavored voice. Jen and I were still tripping hard, and my mind was remembering the spinning tea cups at Disney World and how I was glad I wasn't in one at the moment. Set break was over, and Sector 9 was revving up their engine - they were ready to take their audience for a ride. Jen and I had to muster up our mustard to set foot into a closed-in space with sweat filled air. Could I do it without losing my marbles? Might as well.
As expressed previously in this entry, Sector 9 gave quite a performance. I was blown away in my own little world, eyes closed, and my body moving without any effort. Oh hallelujah, Amen!! No one could talk to me during the show, because I wasn't home. Knock, knock - can Carrie come out to play? She's already playing, come back in an hour. The stage was beautiful. Rob, Jen's boyfriend, is the set designer for Sector 9: Robert Newell. One of his sculptures was hanging above the stage, and his flower arrangements made every girl blush. He gave me a sunflower at the end of the show - I definitely felt a part of the chosen ones. Later, I gave it to a guy who wanted it for his girlfriend - he said it would make her feel pretty. Well, since it made me feel blessed, I thought it was only decent to spread the love. God, I felt to so goddamn good after that show - down and dirty, 'til I'm clean again. Can I get a witness??!!
I was the happiest I had been in, well… I can't remember when. I was ready to give back. In the past month, I’ve been thinking of a career change. So far I’ve contemplated the following professions: lounge singer (just need to take some singing lessons to get my technical ability up to par – I already have the seasoning down); writer (it’s just that I write about nothing – is there a demand for nothing?); and civil rights attorney. Civil liberties has always been a deep interest of mine (check this link out: civilliberty.about.com), and ever since 9th grade I wondered what the hell was up with the electoral college. To see its fall in my lifetime would be a total fulfillment. You know why Bush is president? The electoral college is why. After the show, I felt motivated for a change. I still feel the motivation, but I also feel the fear.
At the end of the night, Jen, Rob, and I headed to the beach, after Rob’s stuff was all packed up. We spent the night under a blanket of fog covering the ocean. I woke to the sandy footsteps of dedicated surfers in the early morning. I felt good, even though my sleep was thin. Friday night gave birth to a wonderful Saturday. The happiness of last weekend has become diluted, but it still resonates. It’s time to develop a plan of action.
