Another Action-Packed Weekend.

On Friday I was visited by Mercedes. We went to breakfast at a little joint up the street. I was tad delirious and sleepy and when that happens I talk like there's no tomorrow. Mercy asked questions about my folks and their history. It's surprising to find out what you'd forgotten and things you don't about your parents and grandparents. But I think I kept her entertained. She was looking hot and funky and was jazzed about having a good day with "her kids" (she teaches Drama to ah, kids with "authority issues").
I was supposed meet Suze for Pho that evening so I crashed for 3 hours, then rode up to Broadway. Suze was there and we got caught up over bowls of hot beef noodle soup. I was to meet Frito at the Baltic so I hopped on Betty and headed down Broadway.
At the intersection of Broadway and Pine, I heard someone yelling at me:
"Hey!! Hey You!!"
I turned around and this scruffy-looking white dude in dirty old acid-wash jeans and a dun-colored coat started walking towards me.
"Hey!" He yelled again.
"What?!" I was getting annoyed.
"Bite my ass!!" He roared, bending over and shaking it at me. The light changed
"Grow one!" I yelled back, moving off (He was really skinny.)
That was so random!
I laughed all the way to the Baltic.

I got to the Baltic and Tess, Aaron, Maria and to my surprise, Christo and Mickey were in the joint! I hadn't seen either of them in months! Christo asked me about Betty and we started trading motorcycle stories, then Frito showed up. Around 9 or so, Frito and I rode down to The Crocodile Cafe to catch my labelmates Visqueen in action.
The place was pretty full and after getting some beer we went into the music room to catch the opening act, Big Business. Turned out that Big Business was fronted by former Karp and The Whip bassist Jared Warren. If you've been reading this awhile, perhaps you'll recall that yours truly was at the last Whip show before their drummer and former Baltic Room bartender, Scott Jurnigan got killed in a boating accident last summer.
As Jared and drummer Coady Willis (of the Murder City Devils and Broadcast Oblivion) took the stage, I suddenly understood why there were three Sunn amps daisy-chained together on top of four bass cabinets!
Dude -- they kicked ass! Imagine the power and majesty that was Botch coupled with The Melvins ossem whiplash riffage and distill that shit down to just drums and bass(!)
I wanted to beat somebody up. And I was told that there was a near riot in the back of the music room.
They only played four songs!
Next, was Spider Bites, which came on like a second-rate southern-fried Nirvana (for real...they were wearing meshback caps and sportin' huge belt buckles and stripper-type girlfriends nasty-dancing up front -- I don't think it was a joke). I think over half the crowd wanted to kick their ass. Some kid they had with them tried to get the crowd to clap for an encore -- which caused a woman next to me to shout, "GET THE FUCK OFF THE STAGE!"
I stared at her with a mixture of love and awe and we toasted each in agreement.
Visqueen came out and flat out rocked. They've been on tour for quite a while and they were tight and LOUD!! Rachel Flotard was cracking wise with stories about their trip around the States. They even kicked out an old Halfacat tune! Frito says they're going to record the follow-up to "King Me" in the spring.

Frito went off to get donuts on Saturday morning. I watched a little footie then we jumped into the Mini to run some errands. We stopped by Clay from Pattern 25 Records house to do a product swap and talk about the local music biz. Then I dropped one of my basses off at The Trading Musician for some repairs. I also wanted to check out an Italia Mondial 4-string they had in stock. I wound up buying a Digitech RP200 effects processor. Then we headed out to Northgate to Target and Best Buy, then grabbed some grub at Red Robin.
After a quick nap, Frito and I headed to this new club Premier, for AMZN's company party. Hit Explosion was kicking out the funk classics on the massive stage and most everyone was dressed up in either disco or pimp gear.
Oddly, none of the Amazonians I know were in the set. We ran into Julie, whose husband Arthur (SushiRobo) was playing the Croc that night. And we ran into Scott's buddy Lucas and his lovely and charming friend Anika, who totally busted me staring at her (intrigued -- not lust, OK?)but was still nice enough to talk to me anyway. Due to the fact that there is really only about two degrees of separation in this town we quickly found out she'd been to the Haus of Intrigue for WigNSkirt a couple of years ago!
After a while, Frito and I bailed and headed out to Fremont to TOST where some of the Sun|Tzu posse was spinning. Stu and Tabitha showed up, they'd been at the Arab and Iranian Film Festival Gala. (More info here.) We sat around and drank and cheered the heads on.
After the club closed, we grabbed a hot dog from a street vendor and headed home.
I slept in big time! Got up then went to band practice. I watched about a quarter of the Super Bowl, then went back to bed...then work.

I got this Italo Calvino novel I've been attempting to start recently. I kinda of want to read all of his books, having already borrowed and read The Nonexistant Knight and The Cloven Viscount from Stu awhile back. (But don't hold me to that, you should know how mercurial I can be when it comes to gettin' mah read on) So I read the Introduction and find "If on a winter's night a traveler" turns out to be not one novel but ten, each with a different plot, author, ambiance, style; each breaks off with the first chapter, at the moment of suspense. A labyrinth, no less, in which two readers, male and female, pursue the story lines that intrigue them. Thus, If on a winter's night a traveler gets inextricably mixed up with Outside the town of Malbork, a work of unquestionable Polish origin, redolent of somewhat carbonized onions.
As the book branches out into known and unknown literatures, including a translation from an extinct language, the author, not without malice, rings the changes of contemporary literature with virtuoso versatility. The two bewildered readers tie their own knots and end up in a king-size bed for parallel readings. They are the true heroes of the tale: for what would writing be without responsive readers?

Now I'm intimidated and my brain hurts.

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