St. Andrew at The Doubting Thomas Gallery

Well, here I am again. At least this morning I woke up hungover and not still drunk. The first of so many good things about last night. The cast of characters: two gallery owners (Theresa: Doubting Thomas and Margo: The Boot), my painter friend Maria, Andrew (more later on him), Andrews friend Buster, a dude and his girlfriend who are on tour from New Jersey (the opening act), a couple from Lancaster PA who were hitching to Oregon, a couple of Maria and Andrew’s friend I don’t know and can’t remember names of, the two guys in Park Bench (I think that is the name of the band), two fans one if whom had so obviously dragged her husband along, the beautiful blond who lives upstairs, and me (off in the corner watching the on- and off-stage shows). The event was a concert at the Doubting Thomas Gallery in Tremont staring St. Andrew with Park Bench and the dude from New Jersey.

The show currently at the gallery is anime themed, a subject I like a lot. The art was more crafty than artsy, but interesting none the less. Nothing impressive, but fun to look at. I hadn’t made it to the Artwalk for the opening, I was still in Belize, so it was nice to see the show before it was taken down. It is mostly drawings and computer images that were drawn or painted on, but there were a few kimonos hanging in the back. It is worth a walk around the gallery, but not a trip to Tremont just to see it. Fortunately, I had other good reasons for being there that made the trip worth it and more.

The first performer was the guy who was on tour from NJ with his girlfriend. She was traveling with him, but doesn’t perform with him. He is more of a poet than a musician and started out his set with a spoken word piece about the evils of hippy love and that all we really need is hard-working, in your face style love, none of that namby-pamby shit from the 60s. He was kind of a poser; black shirt, black pants, and a black fedora with a thin red tie and tap shoes for a rhythm section, which actually is not a bad idea (the tap shoes that is). He couldn’t sing on key or play guitar well, but he put it out there.

The second band was Park Bench, or Living on a Park Bench or something like that. I’ll try to find out. I really liked these guys. Raw to the bone, literally frothing at the mouth and bloody guitar strings, emotion. His vocal style is a lot of screaming, but there is a definite sense of pace, meter, and tonality. The dude breaks out a 1950s Telecaster that was totally sweet and I was already impressed before they started playing. The ware patterns on the fingerboard were just classic, totally what they should be for a well used guitar. He plays guitar pretty well, although somewhat unconventionally, in a good way. The songs are very stream of consciousness. The keyboard player confessed to having trouble keeping up with him. Everything this guy had to say was blunt, upfront, and in your face. And when he was done telling you, he was done. It was funny; the only way you knew the song was over was because he stopped abruptly and said “thank you.” It’s not exactly your conventional cadence, but it seemed to work.

St Andrew, (Andrew Charles: formerly of Knife Dance and Step Sister) was the reason everybody was there, except for the couple from NJ who stupidly left to find some fun in Cleveland on a Thursday night and missed Andrew. I have known Andrew for going on twenty years at this point, although I never knew he had a stage name until last night. He is a fantastic guitar player and performer, but it has only been in the last year that he has started singing. He was so clueless when he got started that he was actually asking me for vocal advice one night over at Maria’s because I had spent about ten years singing in choirs. It's something I was flattered by at the time and cannot help bragging about now. He has worked hard at it and hit open mikes everywhere he could and taken any opportunity to perform he could get. He is still testing it out and seeing what he can do with his voice, but what a difference a year has made. As raw as Park Bench was, he was real. He has gone from raging underground Punk to Honky-Tonk blues troubadour. With a harp around his neck, a tambourine under his heals and tiny amp he makes a powerful sound. I am one jaded motherfucker, and I got chills from his performance. Andrew is a truly talented musician, the kind of talent that makes it an art. They call it soul, and as totally non-spiritual as I am, even I have to admit he has something extra special.

The event as a whole was fun. The crowed was tiny, swelling to a massive baker’s dozen plus the two guys in Park Bench. It was a total bohemian art crowd evening, complete with cheep red wine in plastic cups and low-end beer. Maria was in full form, moving Andrew’s little amp to the middle of the floor in the middle of his performance (i.e., while he was playing) and almost ripping the pickup off his guitar, so she could be part of the show. They were living together for a long time when I first met them, but no longer, although they are still good friends. About halfway through the second act the hitchhiking couple came walking in with small backpacks and bedrolls. They were interesting to talk to, although I didn’t, opting instead to eavesdropped on their conversations. I got to catch-up with Buster, who I hadn’t seen in well over a year. To top the evening off, this totally beautiful blond walks in while Andrew was playing. I wouldn’t quite say stunning, but it was hard to look away. She turns out to be very nice; she would have to be to talk to me. We actually had a conversation that was more than flirty bullshit and polite small talk. The beauty part is she loved Andrew's performance and will probably be at the next one, so unlike most of the women I run across, I will get to see her again. There is no way in hell it will ever be more than friendly, but I still love hanging around with beautiful women.

So the checklist of good things about last night includes, excellent live music, hanging with the bohemian artist crowed, the art show at The Doubting Thomas Gallery, which included anime themed pieces, a good buzz, and a beautiful new friend (hopefully). Oh, and the hangover I'm writing through. A good night indeed. The best part is there should be a repeat performance (sans the NJ poet) at the Artwalk opening in a couple of weeks. Andrew is going to be there and I am almost certain I heard Theresa ask the guys from Park Bench if they wanted to play too.

Bloggidy blog blog blog.

I read a long post on what to blog about that was linked to on Brewed Fresh Daily, a frequent stop on my morning surf. I link to blogs about stuff I think might be interesting and check out a couple blogs that friends and acquaintances are writing. Eventually, I will motivate and add some of their links, but not today. I started this blog to see how it went because I was enthusiastically supporting the idea of putting a web site together for the Uxbenka excavation project in Belize and including blogs for the principals and various ephemera involved in the project (i.e., me). I am kind of self-conscience and was not sure how I would be with this, so I thought I would give it a shot.

I am trying to see what others use their blogs for. I don’t think I have any great purpose and don’t want to feel like I am slacking when I don’t open my blog to make sure that nobody has commented. I don’t think I really want to be bearing my soul “in public” even though I can’t imagine anybody will ever read this. Do I need to explain to myself that it was fun to be all hammered and flirty the other night at The Drink and that I am suffering for it the morning after? I can’t think the mental masturbation of examining my emotion connections to the people I met and will probably never see again will be of any value to me, let alone the sorry traveler that somehow might land here. I have been to, and talked about, some bands and Maria’s gallery opening, but my comments were sadly lacking in substance, if they can even be considered reviews. There are always bad haikus. I do like to write those. I'm no closer to knowing what to do with this thing, but at least I have written something and that, I think, is the only way I will ever find my answer.

Zero-Waste, except for the money of course

Visited BFD and scanned through the posts. There was one about zero-waste in Seattle and how nice it would be if Cleveland would emulate their goal. I am all for minimizing garbage. Taxing the manufactures for packaging waste might work a lot better than recycling. Reuse, like returnable bottles seems like a good idea, but who knows what kind of hidden costs are associated with that. At least they would be the responsibility of the manufacturer and consumer, not the citizenry. Recycling is a nice idea, but I am not sure it has worked out very well. When Penn & Teller called bullshit on recycling they pointed out one fact that I found fairly telling. The only thing you can get money for recycling is aluminum. I understand that cheaper is not better. However, I would rather see garbage thrown down a well-engineered hole than my tax money. From what I can tell, recycling costs governments a lot of money and appears to do little more than make people feel good about themselves for doing something for the environment. I commented that Cleveland has better things to spend its money on. Things like schools, police, firefighters, etc. Ironically the very next post on BFD was about crime problems in Ohio City with an outcry for improved city services.

Morning After

Well the Opening was not all I had hoped it would be. Maria’s work was good. Andrew played and played well. I saw some old friends I had not run into for years. The gallery space was big, open, and the show was well hung. Hell, the wine was even good. Unfortunately, the crowd never quite reached critical mass. It hit maybe a couple of dozen people at a couple of different points, but I though more people would have come. I did like the building that the gallery is in. It is an old school that now houses a bunch of studios, galleries, and boutiques. There is even a large gallery space that must be open to exhibits. Currently, it is showing the stuff that didn’t make it into the NEO show at the art museum. The worst part is that while some prints sold, I don't think any of the paintings were bought. Typical.

Maria Winiarski’s opening in Little Italy

I tanked on volleyball and opted for eight hours of sleep. It seems like quite some time since I have even got half of that. Tonight is Maria’s opening. I have seen prints of most of the stuff and a lot of it in progress. I am looking forward to it. It is at the e gordon gallery probably starting around 6:00 PM. There will be original oils and prints available and I'm sure wine and cheese, etc. Her work is primarily figural, stylized, symbolic, and spiritually charged. Seraphim, which is not in the show, is a good example of her work. I actually purchased this piece and gave it as a wedding present.

Maria is a good friend and I have been privy to her creative process. Something that is a true gift she shared. I had a roommate that let me in on some of it during college. It’s not as personal as sex, or anything like as much fun, but it is a good feeling to be involved with something so personal to somebody else. It isn’t the same as music or theater ensembles, although that is a similar kind of sharing of emotion and artistic vision. Maybe something more akin to cooking a good meal with a person you love, although I was way less involved in the painting than I am when I am in the kitchen. Anyway, it will be nice to hit a show somewhere new. I have been in a real rut with the gallery thing. Mostly at Doubting Thomas and Asterisk because Theresa and Dana are friends and that is in no way saying anything bad about them or their galleries. It will just be nice to go somewhere new.

Losers, more losers, and me, the real loser

Man the Indians suck! Lack of baseball fundamentals aside, they are just not exciting. There’s no explosion of offence, just the inevitable implosion of the starting pitcher. No bunting, no hit and run, no stolen bases, no homeruns, no double steals, no nothing. I cannot thank my friend Ken enough for inviting me to see the game from his increasable seats (ten or so rows back, just to the first-base side of the plate). I enjoyed being there and spending time with my friends. I enjoyed watching major league baseball, and there were several very good plays made by both teams. Man the Indians suck.

After the game, I went to Wilbert’s. It was the first time I had gone there since they moved (way overdue). It is a good thing I got the tickets off the radio, although I am pissed I wasted a free show on that nonsense. A southern California blues band with a new “groundbreaking” CD just out. I could have expected what I saw. They all play pretty well and had obviously been doing the show for a while (i.e., they had the act down pat). Too pat. Soulless white boys playing well rehearsed blues, with a strong boggy-woogie basis. No sale! Dave, who plays with Becky Boyd and Crazy Marvin are both better harp players than Rod Piaza, and for sure better performers. Maybe 40 years on the road has taken it out of him, but I don’t think he was doing anything that would have been that creative even in the 60s when he started.

I shouldn’t say disparaging things about the crowd, as it was a Wednesday night in Cleveland, but what a bunch of losers and posers, mostly the former. You know when you go to a blues show downtown and there isn’t a black face in the crowd you are in the wrong place. Sometimes being different and not fitting in is a good thing. I was certainly glad about it last night. It was free, so what the hell. The place was nice, nicer than the old Wilbert’s, and I will go back. Next time I’ll definitely go to see a band, not just because I was going to a ballgame and was already downtown.

Burnin' hard

Man, I have really started to burn it at both end since getting back from Belize. Sunday I was at Taste of Tremont and stayed out late listening to the Boys from County Hell. They are always a fun time and seem to like the Treehouse so I have caught there act a number of times. Monday was another late night of drinking and enjoyment of good music. Yesterday I took a breather and just stayed up late watching cartoons until 2:00 AM. Tonight I am going to the Indians game to be followed by blues at Wilbert’s (read more drinking until the wee hours). Thursday is volleyball at Mitchel’s, which is mostly all about drinking beer, but thankfully seldom lasts past 11:00. Friday Maria is having her opening and I am sure I will be chauffeuring her around and out and about after for drinks etc. At least it won’t be a school night. I need a reality check. Hopefully my credit card bill from the trip will come soon and I will realize that I am actually too poor to be inflicting all this brain damage on myself.

Monday night at the Beachland Tavern

I made it to the Dressy Bessy show. I met WCSB radio personality and artist formerly known as Sergio Van Lukenstein, (I refuse to go along with the “_” shit), in person. Nice guy; total dork. I talked to Tammy Ealom a little before the show. I asked her about the new dance craze she is planning to start, and she was a little regretful about having committed to such a thing on the radio. She seems to be a really nice person. The show was great, way more energy than I could ever hope to muster on a Monday night. It’s so much better seeing live stuff than recordings. I hung out with Ryan and I think Greg of Twilight fame, flirted with the bartenders, drank too much…all and all a good night.

Jaguar on the road

Well, if you could see a better resolution picture you could make out the jaguar walking down the road we took to the site. I missed seeing it by a week. So far this is the only picture I have from the trip. I mostly just put this up to see how it worked.

Just back from Belize, where there was serious discussion of setting up a web site for the project and including Blogs from all the participants so I figure I might as well give it a try while the idea is fresh in my mind. I don’t expect to have anything anybody will much want to hear. Typically all I have to say is as sarcastic as it is insulting, but what the fuck.

After spending a month in southern Belize, I sort of expected to experience a little culture shock upon my return the big city. It was my fourth extended stay down there, so maybe that had something to do with it, but I came back home and hit the ground running as if I had never left. Next time I’ll hopefully be staying for six to eight weeks, so maybe that will result in a more noticeable attitude adjustment. In the past things seemed very surreal after I got home. Maybe I am just that much more jaded now.