beleaguering ennui

So sorta last minute I decided to join some of my new friends on a trip to the Eugene area. the reason was a concert with this singer-songwriter who I don’t recall, Hot Buttered Rum, Mofro, Blackalicious and lastly, Michael Frianti & Spearhead.

I decided to go in part because the people who I was going with (Jeff, Steph, Dave and RP-R), whom RP-R and I met at Pickathon, were working with Harmony Event Medicine and so if we went together, I would be allowed to camp the night with that group. So, Jeff and I drove down that afternoon got our tickets and entered. It was a fairly intimate space despite being outdoors. Essentially it is a vinyard owned by a woman who decided it would be fun to host such shows. Little did I know, that being involved with HEM, comes with perks, the most thrilling of which had to be the “backstage” access.

So the second band, Hot Buttered Rum, a string band from the bay area, spent some time between talking about their Straight Veggie Oil (SVO) bus, and after they finished, RP-R, Dave and I decided to make our way backstage to ask questions about it (considering my latest educational-track choice, I thought it appropriate).

So we talked at length with Bryan Horne (the basest) when a tall (apparently 6′6″) man with dreadlocks and a voice lower than he is tall, walked up with a woman (who I later learned was his girlfriend—as well as a birthday girl) and started asking questions of the four of us about the bus.

-are you the guys who are runnin’ on veggie oil?
-yeah that’s us, you want to see it?
Bryan spoke up.
-yeah
RP-R introduced herself, and Michael responded.
-What’s up sista’

With an arm around the shoulder, sideways-hug. We all got some of the spiel again, this time a little more refined, as it was now the second time. We discussed the benefits, mileage, systems, spearhead’s rental bus, and then migrated onto the HBR’s bus eventually Michael and friend left

This ride was tite in multiple senses of the word. But also plush. We were invited atop the roof, crawling out vent holes, where we were greeted by Nat Keefe (who plays guitar, I believe) tossing a frisbee. So as we caught it threw it back and caught it again I couldn’t help but think. “I love how playful these guys are—they must get really starved for company aside from eachother—it’s so cute!”

god, i love music. seriously, it is just so very awesome. i think about trying to communicate my feelings about the subject, and i nearly faint. have you ever listened to music that just made you shiver? i think i’ll make a mix of songs that do that. there’s music that totally speaks to me. a voice, an instrument, a mix in any variation. sometimes it shifts. when i’m in a somber mood i cannot get enough mazzy star, bach or maybe the moonlight sonata. when i’m pissed i love to put on the superunknown by soundgarden and turn it up. lately i’ve been listening to kid koala – some of my best friends are djs, which has this really awesome track called basin street blues that takes some new orleans big band jazz type stuff and puts down a nice beat. on a similar sorta note, i’ve been recommended bach on a hook although i’ve never heard it. björk – Selmasongs is to me so rhythmically inspiring. the same goes to the likes of medeski, martin and wood – combustication and tortoise – standards. there are the singer-songwriters, keeping people in a large way, aware of the beautiful nuances of life, a short and by no means exhaustive list including the likes of leonard cohen, greg brown, donovan, jeff buckley, tom waits, pete yorn, nick drake, andy stochansky and rufus wainwright (of course, biased toward the stuff i’ve listened to more recently).

the next category i love to use is “art music” i like it in particular because it’s more inclusive than exclusive and so does less in limiting the elaborate, multifaceted connections i draw between generes. for instance the aforementioned tortoise – standards, sits right next to the penguin cafe orchestra – st, ok go – st, mmw – combustication, mogwai, neutral milk hotel – in the aeroplane over the sea, radiohead’s later stuff, the delgados – the great eastern, cake’s – comfort eagle, belwether – home late, wilco – yankee hotel foxtrot, eels – shootenanny and of course, godspeed you black emporor! – f# a# infinity.

– and now for something completely different –

19-08-05
she… there are so many of them. she down the hall, in the next building, she in portland, me she in portland, or she my sisters, she who is fond of me and i not of her, she who i am fond of but not her of me. she who is a friend, a lover a girlfriend, mother and grandma. she who is afraid, strong, artistic, shy, confidant, outgoing and a friendly bitch all at the same time. she who stalks, she who flirts, she who fucks and she who crys. she who gets pissed when he doesn’t listen, come home, learn, guess, interpret, anticipate, open doors. she who gets irate when she doesn’t respect, kiss, cuddle, love and yearn. she is in all of me none of the time that it matters. none that it don’t won’t be happy with a big frown upside down. almost all the colors in one soupy mess of emotion, not quite absent of light. she who is beautifully fat, grossly entertaining and a bundle of a little bit of everything else. she who is wonderfully medium in every single respect, except one or two. she who can’t answer your questions, without staring into my eyes. she who files her teeth and scrubs her nails to maintain that exotic deadlyness. she who runs at the mention of snot or potatoes. she who can always see me smile as i look at the world? that’d be awesome.