What's this

I haven't looked at this place for so long.  So many things have happened since I last wrote.  Good things, average things.  Maybe we will catch up sometime.  At any rate, this photograph of my grandfather at 18 prompted me to return.  With some unknown person called "Two-bit," Grandpa is on right in his navy outfit. Sometime in 1944.

Adventures in Space and Time with the Apples in Stereo

It's strangely apt that the Apples' new theme is time travel, because Saturday the night of May day sure happened fast, almost as if compressed in time.  Story time.

In all likeliness, I wasn't going to be going to this concert.  Just another age-restricted Turf Club show.  I really wanted to go though.  A good acquaintance suggested that I contact Robert to see if he could do any pulling of strings for me, and so I did.  He directed me toward his lovely wife Marci, to whom I am forever indebted for all the kind things she did for me.  Marci and I kept of sporadic correspondence until the very night of the show, where she sent me a last e-mail about 50 minutes before mom and I were going to leave that sealed the deal of getting in.  We got our things gathered in a great tizzy and left to go to the show.

So we got to University Ave., and basically just wandered and waited until the time came.  I made serious eyes at the wonderful Bill Doss in the CVS store, but I don't think he realized I recognized him.  I saw the kids of Laminated Cat (who, as it turned out, were a nice bunch too).  When the time came, we sent the deciding text to Marci, saying "Hello, this is nicole, we are here, we are in front. You are wonderful!" and about 15 seconds later, we spotted Marci and Robert through the window and coming out the door to come meet us. Wow!

First impulse of mine was to hug the pair, and so I did, and shook their hands.  Robert commented, "Nice Music Tapes shirt!" and flashed his lovely white smile, and I melted a little bit.  They led us in, where we found out they had actually put me on their guest list (oi!) and really weren't even expecting me to have a ticket.  Amazed I was, and Robert then announced, "We're gonna go eat," and so mom and I were left alone again, completely floored.

Sitting at the bar, I basically looked around dumbfounded and overjoyed to be there, and listened to Laminated Cat mic check for a while.  Robert walked by later and spoke with us again, and then soon enought LC began their set. 

Not knowing much about them, I honestly enjoyed LC.  Basically, they are a group of some talented young kids who like to make psychedelic rock music, and play it well.  Robert stood solitary in the middle of the floor, watching them like a proud father, for the majority of their set.  I really enjoyed this band, and ended up purchasing their two CDs afterward.  Very polite indeed: the bassist smiled widely at me as he walked by; my mom told the front man (whose voice I really quite love) he did a really nice job, and he just smiled and looked in her eyes and said "Thank you very much"; and the guitarist said to me afterward, "I like your shirt.  A lot." (Gee--I claim to like these guys and I can't even remember their names off hand.  I am an awful person).  Anyway, Laminated Cat is a cool bunch, definitely worth checking out.  They finished their set, and the first middle waiting time commenced.
   Generationals!  I only really knew them from the radio, but they were pretty cool. 
More on this soon...

Festival of Nations

Today I visited the 2010 Festival of Nations over in St. Paul and had a nice crowded time. As always, there were hordes of people there, which gets on my nerves in trying to walk but also is nice in seeing such diversity.

Largely, the bazaar and cafe are where it's at. So of course, I spent a lot of time looking around at all the little buyables that are supposedly representative of their respective country (which, in many cases, aren't, but likewise in many are-- the Matryoshkas, for example). I ended up at the Tibet stand, where I bought a cute little knit hat (although summer is on its way) and a beaded bracelet. There I spoke to an older fellow from Tibet from whom I got the sense that he'd really like to go back but "(sigh)" he really cannot, "because China."  He was really a kind old man and pressed my hand warmly before I left, and I was happy to have spoken to an interesting person.

Speaking of interesting persons, I continued ambling along through the stands, and I spotted a blanketed instrument obviously of Indian origin.  I didn't know what it was, so I sort of stood and stared until the women took notice, then I asked them.  As it turns out, it's a veena, the ancient cousin of the sitar, and the national instrument of India.  They are 2000 years old and have a nice unique sound.  The woman who led the troupe of veena players and others was one Ms. Nirmala Rajasekar, who coincidentally was going to be playing that day a small set, so I went to watch her.  She was quite friendly, and really quite good, and reassured me that sitar "really isn't that complicated."  I'll take her word for it..

The Scary Zone

Halloween, with eerie sixties twilight zone-esque family photos. I wish everyone much fright.

Birthday!

Today is my birthday, WOO! In honor of the holiday (heh), I have for you my favorite birthday party photo ever, directly from the Grandparents' archives..

There's old Antonio, little Marc the man of the hour, Mary, and Gary. For me, this is just the best photo... look at those kids' faces! Their eyes and smiles are so cute and they say so much. Regretfully, I think that the poor old clown cake got brutally cut and eaten shortly after having this photo taken, but you know, I never get tired of looking at this one.

Conglomeration

First: Let us wish our dear Nelson Mandela happy birthday. Happy 91st, Madiba! You're a hero!

Next: Going to see the Breeders again on August the 11th. I'm getting pretty ecstatic about that. Plus, I learned how to properly open a banana--hint, try pinching the other side. I've been playing my saw on the roof and I got a pair of sunglasses at the antique store for 400 cents that make me look like Dr. Strangelove and I've begun the construction of my tiny cardboard house. Lots of things I've done.

And, I have gotten through most of one of the grandparents' photo albums, which I dubbed the Brown Album. Sounds like a Beatles or Weezer type of name, doesn't it. This one was filled with zillions of old ones of my grand-relatives and their relatives and it is all just brilliant. Here I have

a couple of my favorites. On the left is my late Uncle Butch (recall?) holding a rat he caught. The little mobster on the right is my Grandpa Tony, whom I idolize, standing ring with a huge pile of wood making for a picturesque backdrop. These are circa 1935 or 36, making Butch and Grandpa around 13 and 9 years old, respectively.

Honestly, I never get tired of looking at these. Maybe it's just a personal obsession, but when I look at them it's like visiting an alternate space, and I try to piece that these are the people I know. Time, man, it's a bloody spaceship. I'll put up more of these soon, hopefully.

Out of the Archives

I am beginning a great effort this summer to copy all my grandparents' old photos into digital. The idea began this year while searching for a single photo of my great-grandfather Antonio, when I was shown album after album after album of wonderful old photos of my predecessors, most of whom I never got to meet! To me, it's some sort of trove; hundreds of fading, black-and-whites that show the people who've put me here. It's both an aesthetic pleasure as well as a historical one. It's all there, but it's vulnerable, too. I wouldn't want some freak accident (volcanic eruption, alien invasion, return of the super-ape) to go and ruin them all. And so begins my quest...

Lefty.

I have supported the new President of the U.S. Barack Obama for some time now. Since I started following the campaign I liked his plans and ideas, his beliefs, that charisma, and in all vanity I have to admit, he's pretty handsome as far as a president goes. You cannot deny that much. But just this week while watching him in action on the telly, I learned something new and exciting about the Pres. Something that only about 15% of the population can say they are (source).
Yes, President Obama is indeed left-handed. A Zurdo, if you know Español. Since I myself am a Zurda, I feel a special connection to other lefties. It's stupid, I know, and we have had other left-handed presidents, but I still maintain that we lefties are an interesting sort. We can understand one another when we complain about the sides of our hands getting all dirtied with pencil from having to run them over all the words we just wrote. Anyway. I just thought I'd mention it.
You know, it sort of made my day.

Of the Lost and Found

I found this handsome bass in my basement last night for the first time. How long have we had this? Years, apparently. Oi! I had no idea. It's really quite lovely, and I hope I'll have time to play it up soon.

It's been a while since I was last here. I will try to come back more, although I know I'm writing essentially to myself. But I've been known to do that anyway. I like it. Now it's just electronic, too. But I haven't forsaken my old ways, oh no.

Well, to end on a sour note, my great uncle Butch has died. He's gone to sleep in my memory, and now his back and hip doesn't have that itch. Many found him to be aloof, which he was, but if you did get to talk to him, it was nothing but a pleasure. I enjoyed his company, myself. He was the only person I have known who could pet those chipmunks.

Quirkiness

I've been thinking about how wonderful people's strange little quirks are. Life would be terribly boring if nobody had an odd little habit they do regularly.
The other day, I was sitting at a bench at the mall, when I spotted a young-ish man, he couldn't have been older than 25, in a burgundy tee shirt, walking and singing loudly to himself. He strolled by singing some lovely song, and disappeared into the book store. At first, I thought, why, that's odd, because I don't generally see people singing to themselves when they are walking alone. But a few seconds later, after he was gone, I wished I would have stopped him, and at least asked, what song are you singing?
I really liked this fellow-- because he has a wonderful idiosyncrasy of singing aloud. These quirks are great. I love to see all the little eccentricities of the world come out.