Archive for May, 2007

What’s this? Up with the birds?

Tuesday, May 8th, 2007

I’m not sure if this is a permanent thing or a fluke or what…but I am up.  I know, I get up every day…but the time varies and it’s usually much later than sooner, and after many many big fat pushes of my buddy the snooze button.  So here I am, 6 am, teeth brushed, cat diapered, birds singing…and the owl that lives outside our window is still hooting.  SWEET!

This sure beats yesterday when I  scrammed out of bed at 4am just to get away from my dream of being disassembled by the narrative cast of When Harry met Sally.  Truly.  All the old couples in the movie were doing their little song and dance (on a continuous and very painful loop) but in addition to their stories they were cutting me apart into many bloody pieces and it didn’t feel very good.  At some point in time I closed my eyes (in the dream) so I didn’t have to see anymore (though I could feel), but I could still hear them talking so I had to get up and move around for about 2 hours before I could safely return to the land of sleep.  I’m pretty sure I get these nightmares because my teeth still don’t touch and I bite down hard all night and every time I wake up I am in a bit of oral discomfort (read: pain).

I liked my Dr. Li volleyball superstar dream much better.

Land of Dreams

Monday, May 7th, 2007

Saturday night dream:
Back in High School.  The gym (Olympic sized stadium with pool) is located under the football field.  Dr. Li is there with all his patients.  Seems he also coaches volleyball.  Am showing up for first time, so am shy.  Dr. Li proudly introduces me to rest of team.  Seems, with MMA surgery for sleep apnea came amazing volleyball playing abilities.  Am super star.  Am stoked.

Sucked to wake up and realize still have sucky knees, but can breathe so am stoked again.

Beware of attack dogs!

Saturday, May 5th, 2007

After meeting Dave for lunch at yummy Thep Lela, I was walking back to my car when I noticed what was lurking in the Jeep parked next to my car. A guy walking out to his car on the other side of the Jeep freaked out and ran back to Starbucks to get all the people who worked there to come out and behold.


Terrifying. Can you feel the shivers?

There was also a comment made about how only white people can get away with taking pictures of other people’s property, but I ignored it. :P

Morrissey at the Paramount!

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007

Tara and I waited in line and bought tickets for the great angst love of our lives, Mr. Steven Patrick Morrissey for the Kill Uncle tour in June of 1991. Oh how we anxiously awaited that day at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley, CA for Our Hero to emerge, hopefully shirtless, to flail his body to and fro, and possibly writhe a bit on the ground. It was an awesome day. We got there early, we did our proper fan waiting, and at last, after a fine performance by Phranq (whom we actually kind of liked), Morrissey was there. In the flesh. Sweaty and crooney and lovely. We screamed and sang and danced and at one point in time he said to us, “Good evening San Francisco” and we screamed even though we were in Berkeley. 47 minutes after he entered our field of vision, he left. With only 4 words deviating from his play list, we were disappointed and exuberant. 47 minutes was better than no minutes. To make up for the short set, we bought t-shirts.

Fast forward some bit of time. Say, just shy of 16 years. Add about 50 pounds to Our Hero the Suedehead (okay, and me too), and put us in row NN at the Paramount Theater in Oakland, CA and suddenly, it’s last night. For $263 in total, Tara and I went quasi back in time. All we needed was: 2 tickets to see the man who knew our pain better than anyone when we were in high school, 1 tank of gas, 2 pair of earplugs, one cheeseburger, one chicken sandwich, one large coke and 4 glasses of really cheap $6 champagne.

Here’s what I learned about fitting in with the crowd of our “peers”: our hair was not dyed enough, our skin not tatooed enough, our bangs not short enough, our outfits were neither black nor retro enough, we did not smoke enough, and if we had been men, we were sadly lacking in thick dark rimmed glasses and sideburns. It was a serious flashback, but we wondered…did the people at this show dress like this still, or was it simply a momentary revival in the spirit of it all? Did the men remember how to do their hair just so (the ones who still have hair), and did the women just happen to fit their blue with tiny white polka dotted dresses from years passed and spontaneously cut their bangs short and painted on their eyebrows for that evening? We couldn’t tell. We could tell that we were insignificant, and that was absolutely fine by us. We were there to observe, and reminisce and Tara challenged me to find someone I knew since no matter where we go I ALWAYS run into someone I know, but I rebelled and specifically didn’t LOOK for anyone I knew. Because that’s what Morrissey is all about. Only kidding. I have no idea what I’m talking about. But I do know that he played Everyday is Like Sunday and Panic! and The Queen is Dead and How Soon is Now, and Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want (forever associated with Duckie Dale) and I kept looking sideways at Tara to see how happy she was which somehow made me even happier.

Funny thing is, we never “fit” into any crowd back then, so it was nice to see some things just hadn’t changed…including the fact that we may not have ever physically “fit in” to the mod crowd, but you know, no one ever really cared.

Note: Morrissey did bare his sweaty torso for us in very very angst-ridden I am repulsive behold me fashion. He also spent a large amount of the end of his show writhing (Like, on the set list it said “riff while Morrissey writhes – 16 8 counts”) and lying in angsty depression on the stage with the occasional hip thrust and gyration. Tara and I had to confer right there to try to ascertain if this was “for real” (Morrissey being 47 years old now), and the audience didn’t know really what to make of it (though the crowd of his followers in the front were going crazy).

Morrissey played for over an hour and a half. Double what we got in 1991! It was one of my favorite nights of my life, and mostly because I was there with Tara. Best friends rock.

By the way, my jaw was KILLING me on the way home. I must have done more work singing and screaming along than my jaw has experienced in a while. I’m going to say it was therapy. This is the last blog I will ever post (yeeahhhhhh!) No I’ve changed my mind again (aaawwwwwwwwww) Good night, and Thank you.