Okay, What is Wrong with the City Water This Time?

Water is supposed to hydrate not sedate, right?  I cannot be the only person who notices these things.  Ack!  The yawning won't stop.

Maybe, I will go for a walk before I properly update this silly blog thing.  The excercise is necessary to wake myself out from under whatever I just drank.  I'll catch you all here in a little while.

Too Loud to Sleep

Yesterday’s activities consisted mostly of drinking coffee at Vesuvio courtesy of my bartender friend Tony, expanding my noggin at the library courtesy of global climate change, lunching at MELT! courtesy of the gracious Gaynor, and athletically dancing to amazing music at the Saloon courtesy of the Bachelors. It was a fantastic day that led straight into a wonderful evening. I just wish I could be more chipper today that I actually am.


As the song goes… “I couldn’t sleep at all last night.” The voices in my head kept me awake until I resorted to playing music to put myself to sleep. Thank the heavens above that my old friend Patrick Liddell sent me his (at the time) newest CD/DVD, audio/video, music experience a few months back. It’s not that his projects are in the habit of putting me to sleep, but I needed something soothing to help me drift away.

It is odd, I must admit, being (alphabetically) Asian, Hispanic, Pacific Islander, and White all at the same time. I think my Czechapina heritage is a healthy mix that has left me genetically predetermined for madness, resistance to sunburn, immunity to still undiscovered diseases, possessing skills at modern (completely interpretive yet slightly Latin) dancing, an obsession with both science fiction and professional tennis, an addiction to microwave popcorn, intellectual ease with mathematics, and who knows what else I have yet to discover about myself.

The most worrisome thing about my ethnic background, though, is my face’s inability to age itself. In a society where a youthful appearance is so treasured, I know this is the last thing I should be complaining about; however, wisdom and knowledge comes with age, and with wisdom and knowledge comes respect. I would rather be known for having a strong mind and an unstoppable wit than for having the face of a teenager here in my thirties. It is a source of ire for me, honestly, that people can only see the surface when they meet me. I think. I write. I theorize. I analyze. I create. I wear the face I grew for myself with pride, yes, but if I could, I would rather wear my soul. If bourbon and makeup can’t age me, I’ll find something that will… as long as it is physically painless. I’ve had enough pain for a lifetime.

Photos of Friends with Varying Degrees of Focus

Here are three of the menfolk from my recent adventures.  (Hmmmm..... it seems I don't know how to format these things properly.)

He in the green t-shirt is named Tony Lioce and is a bartender over at Vesuvio.  He just asked me this morning to go on Yelp to review him... I shall do that anon. 

He with his back to the lens is "Mi Bandido Carino," or so I prefer to call him.  We were out dancing one night when I took out my camera and asked him to do something profound.  He turned his back to me, so I snapped the photo. I doubt he heard me properly. 

He in the photo where I look simultaneously drunk and Hispanic (They were technically both the case at the time; though, many other adjectives also fit me as well.)  is Tony Mackrell.  If I spelled and capitalized his last name correctly I will be completely shocked.  The photo was taken moments before we were both dancing on top of the bar at Amante together.  I had never seen such a sense of rhythm and balance in someone so drunk before.

Music, Music, Music

So, Grasshopper (better known as Mr. 'Hopper) and I have split ways. The details are far from being worth sharing, but it suffices to say-- making music is like making love, so both had to end. Maybe he will stop sending me emails I cannot make sense out of one of these days.  Not that I could ever complain about still hearing from him, or something like that.  There have been enough childish adult males in my past who never speak to me anymore.

Now, what is in the city water lately? Every time I drink the stuff, I start waking up and falling asleep all at the same time. Yeah, City of San Francisco, you really need to fix that!

Sigh... Ruce is playing the feature slot on Tuesday, and I promised to bring my friend (and astrological expert) Vera to see all the hot musician types that show up out there. So, yes, I will again be attending the open mic that Grasshopper hosts this coming week; though, I promised myself I would not sing.  Maybe I might read something.  I have been writing again as of late.

The last two nights of music I have caught have been fantastic, in a rock'n'roll sort of way. Let's see, Friday night I was able to see Superbad at Maggie McGarry's up here in North Beach. They were a bit more like pop rock than actual rock, I know, but they were a damn good show. 

Last night I had the privilege of seeing the Butlers play again.  Now that was about as brilliant a rock band I have ever had the joy of experiencing live.  There is something about the combination of their music with their energy that just makes me dance.  I even took BART all of the way out to Berkeley and back again in order to see them.  Mmmmm.... tasty rock music.  Why must you feed me so deliciously?

I know I had promised to see Forget About Boston last night too, but I did not have enough time to go the extra few blocks to see them.  If only BART could run all hours... then I could dance all night anywhere in the East Bay that it reaches.  Maybe next time I'll be able to sort out a ride home.

Speaking of Vera (which actually occurred a few paragraphs back), she really is a great friend.  When SynSyn, Annie, and (if all goes well even) Amalia come out to see me here in February, I hope we all get to spend time together.  We would all benefit from having a bit more of sagacious Vera in our lives.  We had some amazing girl talk the other night after I spent most of the wee hours of the morning sitting in Sam's eating chicken nuggets and fries and studying academic abstracts on global climate change.  Now, if I could just find a Benicio Del Toro for her.  Vera could definitely benefit from some Mr. Del Toro in her life.

Global climate change.  Yes, global climate change.  I don't plan on dying just because the weather changes.  Joy of joys, though, the San Francisco Public Library system allows access to academic journals on just about any topic you can name.  "Global Warming" still pops up with more hits than "Global Climate Change" in the database, but the papers and articles I can access make amazing brain fodder on sleepless nights.  Who knows, maybe I will even reach some sort of brilliant conclusion about it all someday.  We'll see.

Knowledge

And now, a selection from "The Penumbra" by Squid B. Varilekova...

~Knowledge~

As I shall prove in this section, we as legal residents and citizens are also guaranteed a right to knowledge that is necessary to protect ourselves, our minds, and our bodies under the penumbra of rights created by the Bill of Rights of the Constitution of the United States of America.

In the Second Amendment, we are told of the necessity for the “security of the free State.” Surely, keeping our country safe begins with keeping ourselves and our loved ones safe. The Fourth Amendment acknowledges “the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects[.]” Well, how could this be possible if we do not know when we are in danger?

Most importantly, according to the Fifth Amendment, we cannot be “deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” It is only the governing body that may distribute a legal, harmful punishment. Also, if we are levied criminal charges, the Sixth Amendment guarantees that we get “to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation” and “to be confronted with the witnesses against [us.]” Clearly, in a case where harm may come from the government by methods of due process, we are guaranteed the known information necessary to protect ourselves. And in these occurrences, the Eighth Amendment makes sure that we do not receive any “cruel or unusual punishments[.]”

Finally, the Ninth and Tenth Amendments open the door for the existence of the already established overlying penumbra by stating that we have rights as a people that have not yet been enumerated in the Bill of Rights.

Hence, between needing to protect ourselves, having the right to protect ourselves, being guaranteed due process, and being assured full knowledge of all harmful agents in times of due process, it is safe to conclude it is also then the responsibility of the governing authorities to dispense necessary knowledge of when we are in danger of harm to ourselves, our minds, and our bodies if the governing authority is in possession of knowledge that could prevent that harm.

Spilled Milk

Yet I still cried. Look, World, start fixing your problems. I'm tired of crying over you.

Music Tastes Yummy.

Mmmm... yummy, tasty music. I just wish they also served food at Ireland's 32 during the Tuesday night open mic that my darling Mr. 'Hopper hosts every week. Music would taste better with a side of curly fries.

I have got to admit, I'm coming around on this making music thing. It really is fun. I am fast making friends there at the Ireland's 32, and nothing (musically) beats having a stellar support system. Even at The Hotel Utah which I did attended two nights ago and which is somehow a little higher stress for reasons I never understand, making music was fun. I have had near-debilitating stage fright for so long; it's quite nice to have a room full of love to help me get over it.

This morning was a joy, as always, at the Vesuvio where I did get to spend quality conversational time with my bartender friend Tony Lioce. There was a tourist in there in a suede jacket that I recognized from the Condor (before the naked ladies came out to dance) this last Sunday. His name was Kevin, and although I thought I chose the correct piece from my writing portfolio to share with him, it was apparently quite uninteresting to him. At least he was a gentleman, though. I also met a tourist couple from Colorado which was also similarly disinterested in my writing. Well, I probably just chose a bad fit for each of their reading interests. My works are quite diverse.

I met an energy healer on the way to the library. I worked to my heart's content there at the North Beach branch of the SF library until I completely killed the battery on this little ole computer. I did have enough juice, though, to set up my birthday wish list for my parents. Did I mention yet that I am going to Yosemite for my birthday?

My travel plans have left me in need of a new pair of hiking boots; even though, they have granted me Mr. 'Hopper as a travel companion. Are hiking boots as well as a disarmingly charming (where charming really does mean the same thing as adorably socially awkward) travel companion too much to ask from the universe? I don't think so.

Now, this afternoon and evening I plan to visit my doctor's office for a brain check-up, Kader (Yeah, I spelled his name incorrectly last time.) up at Caffe Cento, Mr. 'Hopper at his humble abode, Vesuvio again for what I think is a book release party, and then Caffe Trieste for some (YEY!) even more tasty live music. Datiko should be around there. He always makes for interesting conversation.