Cat puke, The Arcade Fire, and me

Don't you hate it when a woman has writing on her shirt, and then catches you reading that writing and gives you the stink-eye cause she thinks you're ogling her breasts? I mean seriously, if you don't want guys staring at your boobies don't put words there! Human eyes are drawn to words, it's just how the brain works. It's like when somebody has a "honk if you love _____" bumper sticker and then flips you the bird when you honk cause you love ____. C'mon, wtf? If you can't keep track of the shit you have printed all over your clothes and cars and everything else, don't blame me for reading and following directions.

I'm officially staying in the Bay area now. Boros is loving it; I take him outside to explore for awhile every day, sometimes he gets overwhelmed and runs like a crazy thing back inside, but he's digging it. He has a new ritual, in fact; eat as much grass as possible during the day, and then vomit it all out on the floor at night. Last night was especially interesting; he was hanging out with me on my bed when all of the sudden he jumped down and ran into the hallway (good boy). I could tell he was gonna be sick cause his stomach was doing that pumping thing (you know what I mean). But since it was just a bunch of grass in there, kinda pokey and stringy, he started jumping around like a bug and wiggling backwards, like he was trying to escape something rather than the other way around. I am always one who will defend cat intelligence, but it's kind of hard to do when they act so surprised coughing up or vomiting something they themselves consumed; have you ever noticed how surprised a cat looks when spitting up a hairball? I always say, "you spend hours a day licking your fur-covered body... and now you're surprised that you've got a ball of fur lodged in your gut???" Same sort of thing.

I'm also loving the new place; interestingly enough, it's a lot quieter and more calm than the Davis place. You tell most anybody that you're leaving Davis for the Bay area, they're gonna assume (and rightly so) that the pace is about the pick up pretty dramatically. But I'm basically leaving an off-campus dorm for a house in the suburbs; it's quiet at night, and far fewer people walking around during the day. I like it.

I've been to two shows in the Bay area in the past week; last Wednesday was Manu Chao at the Civic Center in downtown San Francisco. It was in the SoMa district, which stands for "south of Market street" in case you were wondering. Makes me think the new developers in Ballard are Northern Californians, because of that inane "NoMa" campaign; one of the development groups is naming all their condos north of Market NoMa, trying to create a new hip neighborhood... give it up guys. Seriously.

But anyways. Manu Chao on Wednesday, and then Saturday was Arcade Fire at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. Both were good shows, but not nearly as good as I'd hoped. There is a different energy down here that I'm still trying to find an access point into. There are only 300,000 or so more people in San Fran than Seattle, but they're jammed into 1/3 the physical space. That's the best way to describe how the concerts were; extremely crowded, not enough room to get any sort of groove going without somebody knocking into you or something.

Another thing about Arcade Fire; the lead singer told this story about trying to shoot hoops in the UC gym, but some guys were playing full-court and he got into an argument with them cause he wanted to shoot by himself and didn't want to play with them... and the way he told the story, he made it out like he was the victim, and the guy he got into an argument with was an asshole! I mean, the dude probably was an asshole, but still. You walk into a gym and a bunch of guys are playing full court, you don't start bugging them to switch to half-court because you want to shoot by yourself! It doesn't work that way! Maybe in Canadia, Mr. Arcade-Fire-lead-singer, but not in the U.S. of A. Go find a hoop outside somewhere or something. I mean, everyone was cheering him when he told the story, booing the "asshole jocks" who wouldn't let him shoot hoops (not "you can't play with us," but "we're not going to switch to half-court because you want to play by yourself"), and I'm sitting there thinking, "hey, wait a god damned minute here! You're in the wrong there, buddy!"

Overall, it was a fun night and a solid show. Last Arcade Fire show of this tour, so that's cool. I realized, however, that when I want to dance my ass off, what I really want is a nice funky groove. Arcade Fire is many things, most of them good, but none of them funky or groovy. When they really, really get going, really get their energy up, the best way I can describe it is "spastic." Extremely high energy and intense and passionate, no doubt about it. But instead of settling into some butt-bouncin' groovaliciousness, they all just start acting like they're watching one of those short-attention-span Japanese tv shows that caused all those people to have seizures.

My good old Seattle buddy Billy came out to the show, too; he heard one of the guys playing a French horn and commented, "hey, that guy's playing a Freedom horn!" I replied, "well, that's appropriate... they are Freedom Canadians!" Cause they're from Montreal and all. Cough.

I think I'm gonna leave it at that for now. Watch this week for my definitive review of the "Davis Experience." Until then, stay safe and always make sure you're wearing clean drawers. Pope out!