First the background on my first jury duty service from Jan. 2005 ...
It was two defendants accused of killing one young man, so actually we're conducting two trials simultaneously because with the exception of one piece of evidence all the other particulars are identical. The victim, Humberto G., was a senior at Morningside HS in Inglewood. He was killed May 31, 2003 after he was stabbed five times (four in the chest) by Antonio C. (one of the defendants) -- the defense stipulated to this. In fact, during jury selection all potential jurors were asked whether we agreed that sometimes people are justified in defending themselves -- so early on we knew that the defense attorneys would be mounting an "affirmative defense" (no dispute over the fact that the accused killed the victim, but claiming that the killing was justified).
The other defendant was a young man named Juan A., a friend of Antonio's that was with him the night of the killing. Both Calderon and Avila were charged with murder in the second degree, which is different from murder in the first because there was no advanced planning.
Opening arguments started on a Thursday, after three days of jury selection, and they were pretty boring. The prosecutor, Tracy L., took a long time with hers and she has the most annoying habit of shifting her weight while she stands about every 8 seconds. Go ahead, stand up and have someone watch you do that for a minute. It will have them laughing their asses off in about 40 seconds. So, this is opening statements and already i am foreseeing lots of trouble concentrating. Meanwhile she lays out her version of events....
Humberto G. and his best friend, Alex Negrete, are walking late at night on the way home from a party and they pass by a Jack in the Box and get jumped by Antonio, Juna (the defendants) and two other friends of theirs. Pretty soon the six total people break off into two separate fights of 2-against-1. Juan and Antonio against Humberto and Alex N. against the other two.
The defense attorneys have a slightly different version of events. They say that a carload of friends, Juan, Antonio and four others (the other two never engaged in the fighting), stopped at a Jack in the Box [I don't recall if a reason was given, and it doesn't matter because arguments are not evidence] and were minding their own business when Humberto and Alex decided to jump them. The defense attorneys said that they would show that there was a bad history between Alex and Humberto, football players, and Juan and Antonio, two smaller guys.
So off we go to the case, which didn't start until Friday morning (one thing about court in Los Angeles County, it's not the most efficient for a trial juror, but it does allow lots of time to get work done)....
The first witness is the prosecution's witness. It's Alex. He says that he and Humberto were leaving a party and walking to a cousin's house so that they could get a ride home. On the way there they passed a Jack in the Box and Humberto had been on a cell phone off and on. While at the Jack in the Box a car pulls up and four guys get out, one of them looks like he has a bat, and they rush them. They hesitate for a second then run away. Soon though, Humberto turns around and starts fighthing. Alex says that he wouldn't leave his boy hanging, so he goes to fight, too. Pretty quickly the end up pairing off into the separate groups and then shortly after that the cops get there. He and Humberto are thinking of leaving, since they didn't do anything wrong. The cops call them back over and then once they're up against the car, Humerto collapses and he dies a short time later. Once the defense attorney's get to crossexamine him, it gets argumentative as they keep trying to figure out some thing with an alley and why the stick found at the scene doesn't look anything like a bat. It was like a four-by-four, not round like a bat. Alex says that it was dark and it was a fast thing. He also says that once he showed the cops the crime scene that he saw what it really was.
Overall, he seemed to have a very skewed view of the truth, but i never got any sense he was lying, per se. just that the questionable reliability of an eye-witness seemed to be shining through here. his memory clearly portrayed he and humberto as beyond reproach in this incident, except that they should have kept running away rather than turn and fight.
His testimony basically takes the first day. The second day we get the testimony of Ericka M. She is the defendant Juan's girlfriend, but also apparently has a history with Humberto, the deceased. She testifies that she was driving Antonio, Juan and the others home when the check engine light turned on in her car so she pulled into the JackintheBox. She didn't even see Alex and Humberto. She said that Juan and Antonio and the rest of the guys passed around her cell phone and were talking to someone, but she didn't know who. She said that she didn't really see the altercations because she was not near them and it was dark. Bottom line, she corroborates Alex's testimony that there was a phone conversation. She also testified that someone told her to "pop the trunk."
The cops are up next. Btw, while i haven't exactly written a particularly dramatic email, i have done the favor of ignoring the dozens of objections. Let's put it this way, for those who've watched Law and Order and The Practice, the type of behavior that Sam Waterston's and Dylan McDermott's characters got away with -- the argumentativeness, the quasi-conversations -- wouldn't have flied in judge John Meigs courtroom. He runs a tight ship and the attorneys are up and down like jack in the boxes (no pun intended) objecting to everything. If it hadn't been a murder trial it would have been laughable.
Anyway, back to the cops. First it's the lead detective. He doesn't have much to say in terms of anything he saw, because he didn't see anything. Basically, his biggest purpose was that he interviewed Antonio and interviewed him on tape. So we listened to a conversation in which Antonio admits to stabbing and killing Humberto. He says "he lost it." The cop also said that there was no way Alex would have even been allowed to walk the cops around the crime scene. So then it's more cops and the coroner. Bottom line, Humberto was drunk at the time he was killed. They never tested Antonio's shirt to see whether Humberto's blood was on it and they didn't test the knife (murder weapon) that they found at the scene. Or if they did test it, the results weren't available at the trial.
The prosecution rests its case. At this point, i feel like the defendants are clearly guilty of something, murder or manslaughter, but i'm not sure which one. At this point the trial has been going on for several days and believe it or not, the jurors have done a pretty good job of keeping their mouths shut among each other. at least i think we have. instead they (i pretty much just read) end up talking about their love of john grisham books and movies and Nic Cage as an action hero. Um, yeah, these are your peers, America! i hope none of you ever end up in a jury trial.
The defense calls just one witness.... Antonio's brother, Daniel (who incidentally i had a dream about last night, and it's now like a month since the trial has concluded). Basically, he says that they went to JackintheBox to get something to eat, but they were closed. He also said that they go there a lot to eat, even kinda late, but they didn't know the place was closed. Daniel was a shitty witness. He somehow managed to have pretty detailed answers for every question from the defense attorneys, but when asked the same question from the prosecuting attorney he'd say he didn't remember. it was again something that would have been laughable had this not been a murder trial.
Then we got to closing arguments. If you're bored reading this, just remember, I had to freaking sit through all this. Closings were horribly long and we were again subjected to Tracy Lopez's shifting weight thing. Again, if you're feeling bored by this e-mail, stand up and start speaking at someone and shift your weight every 8 seconds... you're both guaranteed to be laughing within 40 seconds.
And now it's friday (7 days after the trial began) and we get the judge's instructions, which take two-plus hours and during which two jurors nodded off. and all of us were more or less baffled by the legalese. one of my favorite things about legalese, they love to define words with themselves. this made deliberations great fun.
deliberations.... we're in a 20 x 20 room with men's and women's bathrooms. we essentially are not allowed to leave except at designated breaks. we started with a quick mousketeer roll call, so we could call each other by name rather than just numbers. this dude scott volunteers to be jury foreman. he's mid 30s and a pretty important guy at his church and he cannot stand silence, so he always has to crack really bad jokes to fill silences, and has been doing that throughout the trial.
we read through the charges and definitions on murder 2 and review the judges instructions for Antonio only, based on that we vote. 5 guilty of murder 2nd, 4 non guilty of murder 2nd, three (including me) undecided. after reviewing the evidence though and the definitions of murder 2nd, which requires malice aforethought, which is essentially conscious disregard for life, it ends up 11 guilty and 1 not guilty. Our not guilty person says that given that this happened during a fight she cannot resolve the doubt she has as to whether the stab wounds were a "conscious disregard for life." She sees it as more heat of the moment, which is manslaughter. With no reliable eyewitnesses, we don't actually know how the fight happened.
The doubters, myself included, we ended up moving to Murder 2nd because of the number of stab wounds. with five wounds, four near the heart, to us this was enough to show some conscious intent to harm and it clearly demonstrated to us the "not caring" whether the guy who was stabbed lived or died. However, after a few hours of talking about this, she still wasn't convinced. End of deliberations on friday afternoon.
Monday starts with Scott wanting everyone's name and contact info because he's planning to write a book about his experience. he says it'll be half our rants and half commentary on the departure from jeffersonian ideals. he says we'll all get cuts from any future proceeds. Four of us don't sign, including me. I mean, I know everyone in Los Angeles is writing a screenplay or script or wanting to act, but this is fucking ridiculous. Well, after this discussion, it starts getting heated. People are really pressing her, imploring her to convince them of why she's right. It then starts getting raised voice argumentative. With people interrupting each other to take shots at her. I'm starting to get really embarrassed.... I work with teens for a living and granted we aren't discussing murder verdicts, but they're much better behaved.
At one point, the foreman, Scott, says that he should ask the bailiff to call in the alternate because she's being so stubborn. First off, illegal to do that, secondly, just really classless and bad form. at this point, a juror (bill) and i (we were generally the most cool customers in the room) can tell it's over in terms of us ever agreeing. that comment has pushed marissa (our lone holdout) over the edge temper wise. and then to make matters worse, scott throws the autopsy photos at her as if to say, how can you not find the guy guilty who made these wounds. seeing that were about one wrong look from marissa kicking scott's ass, i jump in. i start pointing out that the jury deliberation process isn't about us convincing one another of our points of view. it's about each of evaluating the evidence and interpreting the judge's instructions. and to respect the integrity of the process means each of us renders an independent position, that hopefully agree. so thankfully that serves to cool the room and we all realize that we're a hung jury on defendant number one.
defendant number 2 (i'll keep this really short). basically we're in disagreement again. in this case 10 in favor of just involuntary manslaughter (essentially because there was no way of knowing how involved juan avila was in this whole thing. he wasn't engaged in the fight and never touched the knife). but two were in favor of murder 2nd. i think that they were actually misinterpreting the law, but given the negative vibes in the room we weren't going to get over that. so we're hung on both. [side note, for each case we voted like four or five times].
so that's it. i know really long and not especially good writing. despite the negatives of much of the process, the boredom, the immaturity of my fellow jurors, the profiteering foreman, the ridiculous weight-shifting Assistant DA, the comically color coordinated defense attorney (her glasses matched her outfits every day, seriously, either the frames or the lens tint), it was a very compelling experience and one i'd repeat again when called. i am most glad that marissa never "caved" into the pressure even if i think she was wrong. the justice system has continued because it's far more important than any single verdict, it's about the process and watching it was like watching them make sausage, it's kinda ugly, but in the end you get something important and ultimately kinda satisfying.
So sorry this is soooo freaking long and not particularly exciting.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Bright Eyes concert review--one of the best shows ever
Even in the last row of the Orpheum's balcony, hundreds of feet away and above Conor Oberst's head, I still felt like he was singing to me and just a few friends. With his lyrical gifts (especially evident on I'm Wide Awake It's Morning), and the intimate soundscape of "Wide Awake" he was able to overcome incomplete soundcheck, blech acoustics and even a drunk jackass fan (also in the ass of the theatre with me and my friend, dave) to give one of the best shows I've ever seen. [i've seen about 31 shows, give or take.]
The musical highlights of the show were:
Landlocked Blues, now my fave song off of Wide Awake. With all of his songs, and especially this and When the President..., Oberst is able to make is seem as though this is the last song he might ever perform. He gives so much of himself to each song. Yet, ironically, between songs he's funny and almost sheepish looking. The only thing missing live was Emmylou Harris.
Lua, which felt even more visceral in a live performance. This was one where he played solo with an acoustic guitar and the band left the stage.
Road to Joy. They ended with Road to Joy. This was very plugged in and devolved into a wall of sound that still maintained the melodic theme of the song. By this time the crowd was going insane, as much as possible for being seated. As an old guy, I liked the sitting, I must confess. One really cool thing that came through more live was the trumpet on this and several other songs. It was like when I saw Rachael Yamagata and the cello came through more.
Ultimate Highlight: When the President Talks to God. My friend Dave got up to go the bathroom and suddenly the band leaves. Then Oberst says: "This song is dedicated to our Arrogant, ignorant and mostly incompetent President." the crowd went ballistic. Then he proceeded to diatribe against the hypocritical devourer of freedom. It was amazing, and fortunately Dave had returned to his seat before the song started. When he heard the word "arrogant" he knew what song it was.
Glitches: the first song, We are nowhere and it's now, was a mess. It was like they didn't do the soundcheck. There was feedback everywhere and the lyrics were largely unintelligible. There were two times during the show when Oberst and the drummer seemed to be fighting each other on the beat. It was minute and most people I don't think heard it, but it was there. each time for about a five seconds. Last glitch, drunk dude. He would yell and scream between songs and a little during them. Fortunately he left like halfway through the show.
Bottom line the show was most amazing. He did everything on Wide Awake, at least I think he did. I wish he had done at least a few from Digital Ash, but not luck. Apparently he is going to do that at Coachella.
btw, sorry this review is kinda shitty. just not feeling the writing groove right now.
The musical highlights of the show were:
Landlocked Blues, now my fave song off of Wide Awake. With all of his songs, and especially this and When the President..., Oberst is able to make is seem as though this is the last song he might ever perform. He gives so much of himself to each song. Yet, ironically, between songs he's funny and almost sheepish looking. The only thing missing live was Emmylou Harris.
Lua, which felt even more visceral in a live performance. This was one where he played solo with an acoustic guitar and the band left the stage.
Road to Joy. They ended with Road to Joy. This was very plugged in and devolved into a wall of sound that still maintained the melodic theme of the song. By this time the crowd was going insane, as much as possible for being seated. As an old guy, I liked the sitting, I must confess. One really cool thing that came through more live was the trumpet on this and several other songs. It was like when I saw Rachael Yamagata and the cello came through more.
Ultimate Highlight: When the President Talks to God. My friend Dave got up to go the bathroom and suddenly the band leaves. Then Oberst says: "This song is dedicated to our Arrogant, ignorant and mostly incompetent President." the crowd went ballistic. Then he proceeded to diatribe against the hypocritical devourer of freedom. It was amazing, and fortunately Dave had returned to his seat before the song started. When he heard the word "arrogant" he knew what song it was.
Glitches: the first song, We are nowhere and it's now, was a mess. It was like they didn't do the soundcheck. There was feedback everywhere and the lyrics were largely unintelligible. There were two times during the show when Oberst and the drummer seemed to be fighting each other on the beat. It was minute and most people I don't think heard it, but it was there. each time for about a five seconds. Last glitch, drunk dude. He would yell and scream between songs and a little during them. Fortunately he left like halfway through the show.
Bottom line the show was most amazing. He did everything on Wide Awake, at least I think he did. I wish he had done at least a few from Digital Ash, but not luck. Apparently he is going to do that at Coachella.
btw, sorry this review is kinda shitty. just not feeling the writing groove right now.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Jury Duty opening day
So today is Monday, Jan. 31 and I've been answering the call of civic responsibility and undergoing to the jury process for the past week. Obviously, since it's been so long, I've been selected. I've been repeatedly "admonished" by the judge (the Honorable Judge Meigs) not to discuss anything, so all I can say is that it's a murder trial and that the real thing really is nothing like Law and Order. But more on that....
Here are some of the "highlights" of selection, which I have more freedom to write about....
Monday Jan. 24 8:40 a.m. I've been at the courthouse about 20 minutes and hanging out in the Jury Room since I got there. I've learned a few things. First, a jury room isn't any different from a restaurant or dry cleaners, celebrities send autographed hedshots for people to post on the wall -- in this case Kate Hudson. The other thing worth noting is that the jury clerk is "on break" even though the day hasn't started.
9:20 a.m. I'm glad I showed up on time because there aren't enough chairs for the 130 of us or so there. People are on the floor. Also, people start forming fast friendships with others in this similarly dreary situation or they're like me and burying their head in a mag/book while trying not to get roped into a conversation with the dude in the Members Only jacket who seems to be trying to get everyone in a conversation.
9:45 a.m. Jury Clerk starts giving us all general instructions about procedure and closes by saying that a sitting judge will come to speak to us about how we're fulfilling our civic duty and to further explain the state rules about one trial-one service regulation in california. basically, if you're not assigned to a courtroom today you are free of your jury obligation for at least a year. wooooo-hooooo, i naively think to myself. She says the judge will be here around 9:30 usually. We all point to the clock. (this type of time telling is a sign of things to come)
10:15ish The first 30 or so people are called and told to report to a courtroom. Not me. woooo-hooooo I think. Then the jury clerk lets us know that one of the four trials today will need at least 65 potential jurors. Suddenly I find myself getting more nervous.
11:40 a.m. I'm realizing that jury duty would be the best cure for illiteracy--people are reading Maeve Binchy, Gourmet Magazine, the newspaper, Deception Point, textbooks, More magazine. I am one of the 78 people called to report to Courthouse O for that trial. But since it's already close to noon we're given lunch early (at about 11:45) and told to report to that Courthouse O at 1:45 (so two hours). On my lunch break I head to the cafeteria in City Hall, which is across the street, and I notice that the special for every day that week will involve either beef or pork. That's not a good sign. I end up with a Twix lunch.
1:45 p.m. I report to the courtroom feeling good about my chances of being sent home. I figure that with so many people in the room, the odds of me being selected are pretty low, right? I notice the sign on the door to the courtroom reads: "No hats, shorts, tank tops, barefeet, sandals without socks, house slippers, rollers/curlers, food/drinks, gum, smoking, sleeping or shirt tails out." If they actually paid attention to those rules at least a third of the potential jurors would be denied admittance. Fortunately, for me, the scofflaws aren't discarded.
2:20 p.m. We enter the courtroom and all sit in chairs. I end up stuck next to B.O. guy. When you're crammed into courtroom audience seating, being next to B.O. guy is about as bad as it gets. Unless perhaps you're next to bad breath guy who cannot shut up.
2:22 p.m. The judge explains a few basics, tells that we cannot talk about stuff and estimates that this will be a 10-day trial. He also tells us that Los Angeles County is the busiest court system in the United States and that years ago they had a bingo drum (literally, it's still in the courtroom) that the used to randomly select people.
2:30 p.m. The lottery begins. I am not selected in the first group of 18. The jurors are asked a bunch of questions during screening about whether they've been convicted of crimes, are former crime victims, have friends/relatives in law enforcement. Many many people (about half at least) say that they've been a victim of violent crime or know someone who has in this first group. I feel horrible. Living in Los Angeles suddenly feels almost dangerous. (yes, i'm naive, and at this point, actually thought everyone was telling the truth. i hadn't realized some people wanted out of this way more than me and were likely willing to do way more than me to get out of it). So people are either eliminated quickly through the group questions or with individual questions or during the pre-emptory challenges that the attorneys can use.
Up until 4:30 p.m. we keep going through screening. I am not selected to sit up front in one of the 18 chairs (12 for jury and six for alternates. ultimately they'll choose 12 jurors and 2 alternates).
4:30 p.m. we're dismissed for the day. About half of us have been screened. 11 people remain upfront who have made it through group questioning, individual questioning and peremptories. I'm feeling good.
Next morning 10:30 reporting time, about 11 a.m. when we're actually seated.
They are about to read 7 more names, I have a pit in my stomach. I am not called. We screen out some more. And to my surprise some of the 11 who made it through the first round of peremptories are now discarded. I am feeling that pit in my stomach again. After lunch we go through numbers being called out a half dozen times or so, and I skate through each time. As I look around the audience though there are only about 20 of us left and still several open seats up there.
3 p.m.ish they call my number. They ask about my job and I am not immediately discarded. OK, maybe during peremptories. Eventually both sides say that they're happy with the jury as presently constituted, and I'm still sitting on it. We still need two alternates. There are just like 10 people left from our original 78. Eventually after calling 72 names, we have our 14 jurors, including me.
So that's the jury duty story as much as i can tell. Since then i've been on jury duty time, which basically means about 4 hours of actual testimony per day. ugh. we've gotten close in a way, but it's weird when a group of people cannot talk about the one thing they really have in common. so instead we talk about food, our jobs and in some cases previous jury experience. movies also come up, and this group of people really seems to think that john grisham and the movies based on his books are great. oh well. i keep my head buried in "the Devil in the White City." yeah, i'm still a snob.
------
Oh yeah, one last story, it's short, promise. I turned 29 last year and the day after my birthday one of my students says to me: "So, Mike, if you're only turning 29, how come you've lost so much hair."
worst thing anyone has ever said to me.
Here are some of the "highlights" of selection, which I have more freedom to write about....
Monday Jan. 24 8:40 a.m. I've been at the courthouse about 20 minutes and hanging out in the Jury Room since I got there. I've learned a few things. First, a jury room isn't any different from a restaurant or dry cleaners, celebrities send autographed hedshots for people to post on the wall -- in this case Kate Hudson. The other thing worth noting is that the jury clerk is "on break" even though the day hasn't started.
9:20 a.m. I'm glad I showed up on time because there aren't enough chairs for the 130 of us or so there. People are on the floor. Also, people start forming fast friendships with others in this similarly dreary situation or they're like me and burying their head in a mag/book while trying not to get roped into a conversation with the dude in the Members Only jacket who seems to be trying to get everyone in a conversation.
9:45 a.m. Jury Clerk starts giving us all general instructions about procedure and closes by saying that a sitting judge will come to speak to us about how we're fulfilling our civic duty and to further explain the state rules about one trial-one service regulation in california. basically, if you're not assigned to a courtroom today you are free of your jury obligation for at least a year. wooooo-hooooo, i naively think to myself. She says the judge will be here around 9:30 usually. We all point to the clock. (this type of time telling is a sign of things to come)
10:15ish The first 30 or so people are called and told to report to a courtroom. Not me. woooo-hooooo I think. Then the jury clerk lets us know that one of the four trials today will need at least 65 potential jurors. Suddenly I find myself getting more nervous.
11:40 a.m. I'm realizing that jury duty would be the best cure for illiteracy--people are reading Maeve Binchy, Gourmet Magazine, the newspaper, Deception Point, textbooks, More magazine. I am one of the 78 people called to report to Courthouse O for that trial. But since it's already close to noon we're given lunch early (at about 11:45) and told to report to that Courthouse O at 1:45 (so two hours). On my lunch break I head to the cafeteria in City Hall, which is across the street, and I notice that the special for every day that week will involve either beef or pork. That's not a good sign. I end up with a Twix lunch.
1:45 p.m. I report to the courtroom feeling good about my chances of being sent home. I figure that with so many people in the room, the odds of me being selected are pretty low, right? I notice the sign on the door to the courtroom reads: "No hats, shorts, tank tops, barefeet, sandals without socks, house slippers, rollers/curlers, food/drinks, gum, smoking, sleeping or shirt tails out." If they actually paid attention to those rules at least a third of the potential jurors would be denied admittance. Fortunately, for me, the scofflaws aren't discarded.
2:20 p.m. We enter the courtroom and all sit in chairs. I end up stuck next to B.O. guy. When you're crammed into courtroom audience seating, being next to B.O. guy is about as bad as it gets. Unless perhaps you're next to bad breath guy who cannot shut up.
2:22 p.m. The judge explains a few basics, tells that we cannot talk about stuff and estimates that this will be a 10-day trial. He also tells us that Los Angeles County is the busiest court system in the United States and that years ago they had a bingo drum (literally, it's still in the courtroom) that the used to randomly select people.
2:30 p.m. The lottery begins. I am not selected in the first group of 18. The jurors are asked a bunch of questions during screening about whether they've been convicted of crimes, are former crime victims, have friends/relatives in law enforcement. Many many people (about half at least) say that they've been a victim of violent crime or know someone who has in this first group. I feel horrible. Living in Los Angeles suddenly feels almost dangerous. (yes, i'm naive, and at this point, actually thought everyone was telling the truth. i hadn't realized some people wanted out of this way more than me and were likely willing to do way more than me to get out of it). So people are either eliminated quickly through the group questions or with individual questions or during the pre-emptory challenges that the attorneys can use.
Up until 4:30 p.m. we keep going through screening. I am not selected to sit up front in one of the 18 chairs (12 for jury and six for alternates. ultimately they'll choose 12 jurors and 2 alternates).
4:30 p.m. we're dismissed for the day. About half of us have been screened. 11 people remain upfront who have made it through group questioning, individual questioning and peremptories. I'm feeling good.
Next morning 10:30 reporting time, about 11 a.m. when we're actually seated.
They are about to read 7 more names, I have a pit in my stomach. I am not called. We screen out some more. And to my surprise some of the 11 who made it through the first round of peremptories are now discarded. I am feeling that pit in my stomach again. After lunch we go through numbers being called out a half dozen times or so, and I skate through each time. As I look around the audience though there are only about 20 of us left and still several open seats up there.
3 p.m.ish they call my number. They ask about my job and I am not immediately discarded. OK, maybe during peremptories. Eventually both sides say that they're happy with the jury as presently constituted, and I'm still sitting on it. We still need two alternates. There are just like 10 people left from our original 78. Eventually after calling 72 names, we have our 14 jurors, including me.
So that's the jury duty story as much as i can tell. Since then i've been on jury duty time, which basically means about 4 hours of actual testimony per day. ugh. we've gotten close in a way, but it's weird when a group of people cannot talk about the one thing they really have in common. so instead we talk about food, our jobs and in some cases previous jury experience. movies also come up, and this group of people really seems to think that john grisham and the movies based on his books are great. oh well. i keep my head buried in "the Devil in the White City." yeah, i'm still a snob.
------
Oh yeah, one last story, it's short, promise. I turned 29 last year and the day after my birthday one of my students says to me: "So, Mike, if you're only turning 29, how come you've lost so much hair."
worst thing anyone has ever said to me.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Happy New Year
This is part of an e-mail exchange between myself and one of my favorite students.
thx for passing that stuff along from your fellow classmates at the University of the Tree Mascot. very interesting dialogue y'alls have running. I am jealous to some extent. I miss those days, even if i didn't live them as actively engaged as you are. my friends in college didn't talk about stuff like that actually, but even without friends/associates talking about stuff like that, being in an environment where stuff like that could ferment was soooo stimulating.
as you know i'm a bleeding heart liberal and bernard left me hopeful that we'll win the good fight. and i think post election i'm realizing that it's OK to think of this in terms of winning losing. and i don;t mean that in a reaction to bush's with us or against rhetoric. i mean that we have to win the culture war.
we need to people to realize that Love, not gender, is the most important ingredient for a family and that Caring and Compassion don't care about chromosomes X and Y.
We need people to realize that courage isn't just holding to your convictions but admitting that one's convictions were wrong and that though one can rule from fear and the barrel of a gun, a legacy of peace and honor will come from a rule of power that comes from widsom, which comes from the mind.
that God may or may not exist and that in a secular democracy (which is what we are by law!) the right for each person to make that decision is more sacred than the right to believe in that possible entity.
We need people to realize that (to borrow the words from an american indian proverb) we do not inherit the world from our parents, we borrow it from our children. (my words now) and if we love our children as much as we profess to in bromidic greeting cards and whitney houston songs, then we'll take care of this fucking planet.
all right, i'll get the fuck off my fucking soap box right the fuck now.
your friend,
Mike
thx for passing that stuff along from your fellow classmates at the University of the Tree Mascot. very interesting dialogue y'alls have running. I am jealous to some extent. I miss those days, even if i didn't live them as actively engaged as you are. my friends in college didn't talk about stuff like that actually, but even without friends/associates talking about stuff like that, being in an environment where stuff like that could ferment was soooo stimulating.
as you know i'm a bleeding heart liberal and bernard left me hopeful that we'll win the good fight. and i think post election i'm realizing that it's OK to think of this in terms of winning losing. and i don;t mean that in a reaction to bush's with us or against rhetoric. i mean that we have to win the culture war.
we need to people to realize that Love, not gender, is the most important ingredient for a family and that Caring and Compassion don't care about chromosomes X and Y.
We need people to realize that courage isn't just holding to your convictions but admitting that one's convictions were wrong and that though one can rule from fear and the barrel of a gun, a legacy of peace and honor will come from a rule of power that comes from widsom, which comes from the mind.
that God may or may not exist and that in a secular democracy (which is what we are by law!) the right for each person to make that decision is more sacred than the right to believe in that possible entity.
We need people to realize that (to borrow the words from an american indian proverb) we do not inherit the world from our parents, we borrow it from our children. (my words now) and if we love our children as much as we profess to in bromidic greeting cards and whitney houston songs, then we'll take care of this fucking planet.
all right, i'll get the fuck off my fucking soap box right the fuck now.
your friend,
Mike
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
His name was Richard
On Monday, Aug. 30, during the afternoon I was doing my normal thing, just sitting on the couch and reading. It was kinda warm so I had the front door open to let in the cross breeze through the screen door. About 4:30ish I notice the silhouette of a guy milling around in front of the door down the hall from me. He seems to be knocking on that screen door. After another minute he approaches the door to my apartment.
"excuse me, have you seen the older gentleman who lives in this apartment. he's my grandfather," says the guy who appears to be about my age, maybe a little older.
"no, sorry, haven't seen him in a while." i replied. "Is something wrong?"
"well, no one has seen or heard from my grandfather in days. we've called but no one is answering and right now his door is locked," he says. "and what's the deal with these screen doors? how to they lock, because his is locked."
"well, they lock from the inside."
"wait, from the inside," he interrupts me.
"yeah," i said.
"and there's no way that they can lock from the outside?" he asks, his voice quickening.
"no, uh, sorry," i reply, starting to get a bad feeling.
The guy disappears and returns about 10-15 minutes later with two Los Angeles firefighters. I can overhear them asking him questions about his grandfather's health. the grandson explains that his grandfather is older and on several medications. Meanwhile, one firefighter is taking the screen door off its hinges, while the other is trying to enter the apartment through the window (which faces east and is right next to the walkway, which leans to the main area with the mailboxes in our apartment building). This firefighter makes his way into the apartment and emerges from the apartment, having unlocked the door.
The guy is immediately distraught, not hysterical or anything, but clearly they've discovered his grandfather and he's dead. After a couple minutes the firefighters start explaining the procedure of what's going to happen next -- the cops will come and he'll have some questions to answer. The grandson though is too broken up and he asks for a minute to gather himself and he leaves the apartment area and walks down to the street. I'm assuming at this point that they've unfortunately discovered that his grandfather has had like a heart attack or something.
I get on the phone and call scott (roommate) to let him know the bad news. i also call another friend. having something like this happen was something that provoked that human instinct to share with someone else, ya know? well, after those phone calls i start reading again. the door remains open -- i'll admit mostly out of a desire to know what's going on but also to let the grandson know that if he needs any help or whatever, that he can ask. however, he's not really anywhere to be seen, so i figure that he's making calls or something.
Soon after that -- it's probably around 5:30ish at this point -- i actually fall asleep reading. When I wake up about an hour later the scene has changed. There's yellow police tape stretching from my door to the door in the hallway (the tape forms the hypotenuse of the triangle). Essentially, i am taped in. I notice at least four uniformed police officers and a couple detectives in ties and a few black and whites (cop cars) in the street. It seems excessive, but i figure that they need to treat this as a crime scene initially. if they were to let people in there, like family, and stuff immediately and they moved stuff and then they found out something suspicious about the death, the cops would have a problem. they wouldn't be able to take back that mistake, so i figured that while this seemed more than necessary, i wasn't really questioning anything.
however, after another hour i've noticed that there are even more detectives there and more cars and more uniformed officers, too. at this point, while i haven't overheard anything from any cops that clearly indicated anything suspicious, i'm obviously thinking the worst. i'm wondering why no one has asked me anything, so when i overhear a detective asking someone who removed the screen door, i volunteer that it was the firefighter. the detective thx me, but that's it. i leave my door open and then go back to reading. i also call scott and give him a head's up and let him know that he should probably stay on campus later tonight, b/c it doesn't look like the cops are letting people in and out of the building. maybe an hour later (some time between 7:30 and 8 p.m.) they do let someone out. My upstairs neighbor is allowed to go to his tae kwon doe class, he's instructed to press his body against the wall opposite the doorway so as not to interfere with anything.
by 8:15 p.m. scott shows up and he's told that he's gotta stay outside. i'm still in the apartment. no one has asked me anything, and i haven't actually heard anything. the cops seem really busy so i don't want to interrupt. scott calls again and says he's considering heading up to his girlfriend's monday night. he has groceries in his car and doesn't want them to spoil. however, over the course of the next hour he's talking to our landlord who's out there, too and other onlookers. he calls and says that the word on the street is that the man was shot. the cops are examining the screen outside the window, which faces the street. this is the first i've heard of anything like that. in the meantime, the county coroner has shown up, bringing the number of people on the scene to what must be at least 20. scott confirms my total from his observations made from the street below. (the first floor of apartments is actually the second floor of the building). the people from the coroner's office are taking lots of pix. still no firm idea on what's going on and no sign of the family, either. i'm assuming that they're taking care of their arrangements and are no longer needed on the scene.
by around 9:30 p.m. they start wrapping their investigation and letting the tenants into the building. scott says that our neighbor was shot based on what he's learned. a few minutes after scott came in a detective comes into our apartment and asks us if we've heard or seen anything weird or unusual in the last week that might help explain our neighbor's death. scott and i are both shocked. we, unfortunately, have nothing to offer in terms of a lead. i had been out of town until late tuesday night and been working each day.
suddenly i became the person i had interviewed all those times i had to cover murders and traffic fatalities, who could say only that the person was quiet and that they didn't know him/her very well. our neighbor had only moved in about two months ago, and i had only seen him literally a handful of times. he was an older man whose door was always closed when i got home from work, so i wasn't going to disturb him or anything. the cop takes our phone numbers and asks us to call him if we can think of anything that might help in the investigation. the cops leave and take the screen doors with them.
shortly after that our other neighbors, andy and tatiana, came by. they also didn't know anything, but tatiana at least knew our neighbor's name. he was frank and he was very easy to talk to, she said. suddenly all the questions that i could have asked the detective... that i should have asked the detective.... that i would have asked the detective had i been a reporter covering this in albany flooded me. what was his name? what do think happened? when did this happen? do you think it was planned or random?
after tatiana and andy stopped by they later convened outside with scott and our upstairs neighbors, including the guy returning from tae kwon doe class. scott learns that he saw frank's body as he was leaving the apartment. tatiana had heard from a cop while waiting outside that they think it was random. scott is naturally disturbed by what happened and says he would think about moving. i am trying to figure out how a bullet could come up from the street and kill a man in his apartment if it was random. it would have had to have been such a remote chance of it coming up from what would have been a minimum 50 feet away and then strike the body in a place that would be fatal. at this weird inclined angle. i doesn't make sense.
i'm saddened obviously, but apparently not as troubled as scott. we live in a decent neighborhood with lots of families, an elem school within walking distance and as safe as pretty much any neighborhood i could afford in los angeles. this was just a sad random act that claimed a nice man named, frank.
a day later, i'm still sad, though unsure of what to do. unfortunately, and in this case i hate L.A., it's too big here to learn much. the LA Times doesn't cover stories like this -- they're too common -- at least not in depth. and there is no smaller paper devoted to stuff like this either. so hopefully i'll find out more about frank.
worry not about me though, i'm fine. just take a moment though and try to remember to reach out to strangers.
"excuse me, have you seen the older gentleman who lives in this apartment. he's my grandfather," says the guy who appears to be about my age, maybe a little older.
"no, sorry, haven't seen him in a while." i replied. "Is something wrong?"
"well, no one has seen or heard from my grandfather in days. we've called but no one is answering and right now his door is locked," he says. "and what's the deal with these screen doors? how to they lock, because his is locked."
"well, they lock from the inside."
"wait, from the inside," he interrupts me.
"yeah," i said.
"and there's no way that they can lock from the outside?" he asks, his voice quickening.
"no, uh, sorry," i reply, starting to get a bad feeling.
The guy disappears and returns about 10-15 minutes later with two Los Angeles firefighters. I can overhear them asking him questions about his grandfather's health. the grandson explains that his grandfather is older and on several medications. Meanwhile, one firefighter is taking the screen door off its hinges, while the other is trying to enter the apartment through the window (which faces east and is right next to the walkway, which leans to the main area with the mailboxes in our apartment building). This firefighter makes his way into the apartment and emerges from the apartment, having unlocked the door.
The guy is immediately distraught, not hysterical or anything, but clearly they've discovered his grandfather and he's dead. After a couple minutes the firefighters start explaining the procedure of what's going to happen next -- the cops will come and he'll have some questions to answer. The grandson though is too broken up and he asks for a minute to gather himself and he leaves the apartment area and walks down to the street. I'm assuming at this point that they've unfortunately discovered that his grandfather has had like a heart attack or something.
I get on the phone and call scott (roommate) to let him know the bad news. i also call another friend. having something like this happen was something that provoked that human instinct to share with someone else, ya know? well, after those phone calls i start reading again. the door remains open -- i'll admit mostly out of a desire to know what's going on but also to let the grandson know that if he needs any help or whatever, that he can ask. however, he's not really anywhere to be seen, so i figure that he's making calls or something.
Soon after that -- it's probably around 5:30ish at this point -- i actually fall asleep reading. When I wake up about an hour later the scene has changed. There's yellow police tape stretching from my door to the door in the hallway (the tape forms the hypotenuse of the triangle). Essentially, i am taped in. I notice at least four uniformed police officers and a couple detectives in ties and a few black and whites (cop cars) in the street. It seems excessive, but i figure that they need to treat this as a crime scene initially. if they were to let people in there, like family, and stuff immediately and they moved stuff and then they found out something suspicious about the death, the cops would have a problem. they wouldn't be able to take back that mistake, so i figured that while this seemed more than necessary, i wasn't really questioning anything.
however, after another hour i've noticed that there are even more detectives there and more cars and more uniformed officers, too. at this point, while i haven't overheard anything from any cops that clearly indicated anything suspicious, i'm obviously thinking the worst. i'm wondering why no one has asked me anything, so when i overhear a detective asking someone who removed the screen door, i volunteer that it was the firefighter. the detective thx me, but that's it. i leave my door open and then go back to reading. i also call scott and give him a head's up and let him know that he should probably stay on campus later tonight, b/c it doesn't look like the cops are letting people in and out of the building. maybe an hour later (some time between 7:30 and 8 p.m.) they do let someone out. My upstairs neighbor is allowed to go to his tae kwon doe class, he's instructed to press his body against the wall opposite the doorway so as not to interfere with anything.
by 8:15 p.m. scott shows up and he's told that he's gotta stay outside. i'm still in the apartment. no one has asked me anything, and i haven't actually heard anything. the cops seem really busy so i don't want to interrupt. scott calls again and says he's considering heading up to his girlfriend's monday night. he has groceries in his car and doesn't want them to spoil. however, over the course of the next hour he's talking to our landlord who's out there, too and other onlookers. he calls and says that the word on the street is that the man was shot. the cops are examining the screen outside the window, which faces the street. this is the first i've heard of anything like that. in the meantime, the county coroner has shown up, bringing the number of people on the scene to what must be at least 20. scott confirms my total from his observations made from the street below. (the first floor of apartments is actually the second floor of the building). the people from the coroner's office are taking lots of pix. still no firm idea on what's going on and no sign of the family, either. i'm assuming that they're taking care of their arrangements and are no longer needed on the scene.
by around 9:30 p.m. they start wrapping their investigation and letting the tenants into the building. scott says that our neighbor was shot based on what he's learned. a few minutes after scott came in a detective comes into our apartment and asks us if we've heard or seen anything weird or unusual in the last week that might help explain our neighbor's death. scott and i are both shocked. we, unfortunately, have nothing to offer in terms of a lead. i had been out of town until late tuesday night and been working each day.
suddenly i became the person i had interviewed all those times i had to cover murders and traffic fatalities, who could say only that the person was quiet and that they didn't know him/her very well. our neighbor had only moved in about two months ago, and i had only seen him literally a handful of times. he was an older man whose door was always closed when i got home from work, so i wasn't going to disturb him or anything. the cop takes our phone numbers and asks us to call him if we can think of anything that might help in the investigation. the cops leave and take the screen doors with them.
shortly after that our other neighbors, andy and tatiana, came by. they also didn't know anything, but tatiana at least knew our neighbor's name. he was frank and he was very easy to talk to, she said. suddenly all the questions that i could have asked the detective... that i should have asked the detective.... that i would have asked the detective had i been a reporter covering this in albany flooded me. what was his name? what do think happened? when did this happen? do you think it was planned or random?
after tatiana and andy stopped by they later convened outside with scott and our upstairs neighbors, including the guy returning from tae kwon doe class. scott learns that he saw frank's body as he was leaving the apartment. tatiana had heard from a cop while waiting outside that they think it was random. scott is naturally disturbed by what happened and says he would think about moving. i am trying to figure out how a bullet could come up from the street and kill a man in his apartment if it was random. it would have had to have been such a remote chance of it coming up from what would have been a minimum 50 feet away and then strike the body in a place that would be fatal. at this weird inclined angle. i doesn't make sense.
i'm saddened obviously, but apparently not as troubled as scott. we live in a decent neighborhood with lots of families, an elem school within walking distance and as safe as pretty much any neighborhood i could afford in los angeles. this was just a sad random act that claimed a nice man named, frank.
a day later, i'm still sad, though unsure of what to do. unfortunately, and in this case i hate L.A., it's too big here to learn much. the LA Times doesn't cover stories like this -- they're too common -- at least not in depth. and there is no smaller paper devoted to stuff like this either. so hopefully i'll find out more about frank.
worry not about me though, i'm fine. just take a moment though and try to remember to reach out to strangers.
Friday, July 16, 2004
Why I live in the City of Angels
This is from Bill Simmons's column on espn.com
Q: Sports Guy, why are you still living in Los Angeles? Why would a Boston sports fan live in L.A. when he has no reason to? You used similar logic when you suggested that Ben Affleck can't be a real Red Sox fan because he dated a girl from the Bronx. What is the attraction in L.A.?
-- DJ Junior, Haverhill, Mass.
BS: I can't decide on an answer between "Um ... it's 80 degrees every day?" and "Every woman out here dresses like a hooker." So I guess I'll say both. But yes, I do miss Boston. Very much so.
JimmyKimmel: Here's a little secret I probably shouldn't let you in on, but I will: Wherever you're living right now, L.A. is nicer. In nearly every category, we win. No reasonable person who has ever spent any amount of time here would argue this -- and those who do are in denial. Our weather is better, we have more to do, more to see -- our gardeners charge 50 bucks a month -- and, as a group, the women here make yours look like livestock. L.A. is to cities what George Clooney is to men. Better. And those "earthquakes" we have once every 10 years? Spielberg, Lucas and -- starting next year -- DeVito produce them to scare people away who might be thinking of moving here. Please don't tell anyone.
Q: Sports Guy, why are you still living in Los Angeles? Why would a Boston sports fan live in L.A. when he has no reason to? You used similar logic when you suggested that Ben Affleck can't be a real Red Sox fan because he dated a girl from the Bronx. What is the attraction in L.A.?
-- DJ Junior, Haverhill, Mass.
BS: I can't decide on an answer between "Um ... it's 80 degrees every day?" and "Every woman out here dresses like a hooker." So I guess I'll say both. But yes, I do miss Boston. Very much so.
JimmyKimmel: Here's a little secret I probably shouldn't let you in on, but I will: Wherever you're living right now, L.A. is nicer. In nearly every category, we win. No reasonable person who has ever spent any amount of time here would argue this -- and those who do are in denial. Our weather is better, we have more to do, more to see -- our gardeners charge 50 bucks a month -- and, as a group, the women here make yours look like livestock. L.A. is to cities what George Clooney is to men. Better. And those "earthquakes" we have once every 10 years? Spielberg, Lucas and -- starting next year -- DeVito produce them to scare people away who might be thinking of moving here. Please don't tell anyone.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Vanity, thy name is ...
So went back to the doc's today (for the penultimate visit). everything is cool with the cyst on my face. biopsy was negative for cancer or anything dangerous. skin appears to be healing as well as the face. doc is feeling pretty good about everything. then he drops this bombshell on me. (remember, when i told the story the first time one of my fave parts was using this phrase "beverly hills plastic surgeon").
"so mike, have you thought about propecia or hair replacement?"
"no, but believe me, not a day goes by when i don't think about how i used to be a kid with thick hair, and now well, i don't." i answered quickly to mask my shock at this being brought up umprompted. coincidentally though, i did grab a hair replacement pamphlet last time i was in his office, but no one saw me do it.
so after a few minutes the doc comes back with his camera to take photos of my head ("for a baseline"). he then writes a prescription for propecia, but recommends that i get it online from Mexico or to get it from friends in Mexico, if i have any, b/c it's much cheaper. the humor of the situation and the acknowledgement of my own vanity have kept me from actually getting angry or disturbed by the unsolicited offer to fix my male pattern baldness.
still though, pretty effed up stuff, eh?
"so mike, have you thought about propecia or hair replacement?"
"no, but believe me, not a day goes by when i don't think about how i used to be a kid with thick hair, and now well, i don't." i answered quickly to mask my shock at this being brought up umprompted. coincidentally though, i did grab a hair replacement pamphlet last time i was in his office, but no one saw me do it.
so after a few minutes the doc comes back with his camera to take photos of my head ("for a baseline"). he then writes a prescription for propecia, but recommends that i get it online from Mexico or to get it from friends in Mexico, if i have any, b/c it's much cheaper. the humor of the situation and the acknowledgement of my own vanity have kept me from actually getting angry or disturbed by the unsolicited offer to fix my male pattern baldness.
still though, pretty effed up stuff, eh?
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Two worlds collide
So for many years (at least six) I've had a small pea-sized growth (at biggest) on my left cheek, down near my jaw. It was essentially invisible and never caused me any pain or grief (most days I didn't even remember I had it), so i just let it go. I'd had a couple cysts as a kid and so i figured that that's all this was. Well, this is the story of all debts coming due.
May 24ish (the Monday before the Memorial Day Holiday weekend) I notice that it seems to be getting bigger. Not much but enough that it's visible to the casual glance (as opposed to the deep stare) and that it's kinda tender when I touch it. Feels like a black and blue. At work on Tuesday I ask my boss for her doctor's number and explain the situation to my co-workers. They're of course concerned but given the holiday coming up, my sister visiting and then me going off on vacation that following Sunday (june 6), I tell them that i'll call the doc when i get back from Buffalo (June 14).
The rest of the week it keeps growing. From one day to the next I cannot tell if it's growing or if I'm being paranoid, but every two days I notice that it's definitely growing compared to two days prior. Co-workers start expressing more concern. And the bump on my face (underneath the skin, not like a pimple) is starting to turn a different color than my skin (a little darker). I figure that I should call the doctor next week (the tuesday after memorial day).
So my roommate and his girlfriend are growing more concerned and so am I, to be honest, but it's now Saturday and there's nothing i can do, short of going to an emergency room until Tuesday. So when I get home from work Saturday I go over my insurance policy and realize that at minimum like $250 plus 30 percent of whatever tests they run, I am not going to the ER for a little swelling on my face. I mean, it still only hurts when I touch it and i haven't noticed anyone staring.
After looking up the info I go pick up my sister Katie at the airport. I tell her about it and not to tell my mother if mom calls. Sunday rolls around and we go see a performance of Thorougly Modern Millie (which was fantastic, but please don't bring young kids to the #%^&*#$ theatre, they don't belong). It's bigger, says Scott (roommate) and his girlfriend, Shelley, and Katie. I am not sure, but then I think, yeah, it's at least bigger than it was Friday. So I spill the beans to mom and tell her that I'll also call my insurance company's 24-hour-nurse-on-call line.
Monday, we hang out in Melrose, Hollywood and Santa Monica. We also go looking for Jennifer Garner's house (one of my students have provided intel about it's location, but we came up empty there). No news really about the bump. I did call the nurse line and they recommended going to the doctor to have it checked out. They did ask if it had been pulsating. Fortunately it wasn't.
Tuesday morning (we're supposed to head to Magic Mountain, which opens at 10 a.m.). Instead of leaving at 8:30 to be there when the gates open, we cannot leave until after I've made an appointment with Dr. Betty Fletcher. So I call the office at like 9:02 a.m. and they can see me Thursday at 9:45 a.m. I'm happy that I finally at least have an appointment and we head to Magic Mountain. The park was great except for worst pizza ever, not enough employees and banging my face against a restraint on a roller coaster (that #^&*#$ hurt).
Wednesday I go to work and Amanda (one of my co-workers, who went to UofA by the way) notices that it's bigger. I tell her that I'll be hitting the doc's on thursday and she's in favor of that. I also tell her that i'm prepared to postpone my upcoming vacay if necessary. She agrees with that, too.
So Thursday comes and I go to the doc's. As she's asking me about it, she asks me if it's warm. I tell her that I cannot tell, b/c any paranoia gets in the way. She touches it and let's me know immediately that it's warm. "it's a hot spot, medically," she tells me. Diagnosis: an abscess, which is some kind of infection, that needs to be taken care of ASAP. She refers me to a ear/nose/throat (so i thought) doctor that can see me the next day (Friday). It's with a Dr. Ruder in Beverly Hills (which is weird, because I've heard of a Dr. Ruder in BH. He performed a nose surgery/job on one of my students). I wonder....
Well, turns out, it's him. I have officially gone to see a "plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills" (with the exception of Jennifer Garner agreed to marry me, those are the words I've most wanted to say since moving to L.A.). The office is really nice, small, but nice. Very clean, the staff is well-dressed and there are brochures for every kind of procedure imagineable. Also, there's an article about him from the 1994 L.A. Times about how he pioneered an ear replacement surgery. It's pretty cool. The operation costs like $19,000 and insurance coverage is spotty so he asks many families to pay what they can afford and he'll take the rest in kind or for cookies and stuff. He seems like a pretty all right cat.
So one might expect from this medical pioneer in Beverly Hills some kind of super high-tech surgical procedure. Maybe he'll sonically reduce it like they do with kidney stones? or something with a laser, right? I mean he's a plastic surgeon in Bevery Hills. Or maybe he'll bust out some Star Trek medicine (just waving a salt shaker type thing over my face and call me cured). Um, nope.
It was pioneer medicine, as in Willa Cather (19th century American author) O Pioneers! medicine. Essentially, he made a small incision on the bump and squeezed and pressed my face until the infected cyst (i was right about that part anyway) emerged or was "expressed" as he referred to it. Now, this took about 10 minutes of him just kneading my face, like he was making pizza dough. I must say, as he was doing this I was forced to wonder... is this the best option in 2004 in Beverl Hills?
Fortunately, it didn't hurt that much, but it did hurt at times. Enough that I winced a couple times. But i knew what he was doing so it was cool. If it had been excruiciating he would've known that, too. At the end he complimented me as stoic telling me that he probably didn't have any other patients who could've withstood that. i thank him for the compliment but mostly for getting rid of this thing. He does tell me that my follow up is the next Monday (or the day after I'm supposed to get on a plane. so hello postponed vacation. but it's just a week so it's all good.).
The first follow-up exam was good. I am still awaiting the biopsy, but no reasons to be worried. THere's an 80 percent chance i'm good to go and a 20 percent chance it might come back. He said he went with those odds, because if they have to cut in surgically I end up with a scar on my face. so who knows? but I have confidence. Things look good now.
May 24ish (the Monday before the Memorial Day Holiday weekend) I notice that it seems to be getting bigger. Not much but enough that it's visible to the casual glance (as opposed to the deep stare) and that it's kinda tender when I touch it. Feels like a black and blue. At work on Tuesday I ask my boss for her doctor's number and explain the situation to my co-workers. They're of course concerned but given the holiday coming up, my sister visiting and then me going off on vacation that following Sunday (june 6), I tell them that i'll call the doc when i get back from Buffalo (June 14).
The rest of the week it keeps growing. From one day to the next I cannot tell if it's growing or if I'm being paranoid, but every two days I notice that it's definitely growing compared to two days prior. Co-workers start expressing more concern. And the bump on my face (underneath the skin, not like a pimple) is starting to turn a different color than my skin (a little darker). I figure that I should call the doctor next week (the tuesday after memorial day).
So my roommate and his girlfriend are growing more concerned and so am I, to be honest, but it's now Saturday and there's nothing i can do, short of going to an emergency room until Tuesday. So when I get home from work Saturday I go over my insurance policy and realize that at minimum like $250 plus 30 percent of whatever tests they run, I am not going to the ER for a little swelling on my face. I mean, it still only hurts when I touch it and i haven't noticed anyone staring.
After looking up the info I go pick up my sister Katie at the airport. I tell her about it and not to tell my mother if mom calls. Sunday rolls around and we go see a performance of Thorougly Modern Millie (which was fantastic, but please don't bring young kids to the #%^&*#$ theatre, they don't belong). It's bigger, says Scott (roommate) and his girlfriend, Shelley, and Katie. I am not sure, but then I think, yeah, it's at least bigger than it was Friday. So I spill the beans to mom and tell her that I'll also call my insurance company's 24-hour-nurse-on-call line.
Monday, we hang out in Melrose, Hollywood and Santa Monica. We also go looking for Jennifer Garner's house (one of my students have provided intel about it's location, but we came up empty there). No news really about the bump. I did call the nurse line and they recommended going to the doctor to have it checked out. They did ask if it had been pulsating. Fortunately it wasn't.
Tuesday morning (we're supposed to head to Magic Mountain, which opens at 10 a.m.). Instead of leaving at 8:30 to be there when the gates open, we cannot leave until after I've made an appointment with Dr. Betty Fletcher. So I call the office at like 9:02 a.m. and they can see me Thursday at 9:45 a.m. I'm happy that I finally at least have an appointment and we head to Magic Mountain. The park was great except for worst pizza ever, not enough employees and banging my face against a restraint on a roller coaster (that #^&*#$ hurt).
Wednesday I go to work and Amanda (one of my co-workers, who went to UofA by the way) notices that it's bigger. I tell her that I'll be hitting the doc's on thursday and she's in favor of that. I also tell her that i'm prepared to postpone my upcoming vacay if necessary. She agrees with that, too.
So Thursday comes and I go to the doc's. As she's asking me about it, she asks me if it's warm. I tell her that I cannot tell, b/c any paranoia gets in the way. She touches it and let's me know immediately that it's warm. "it's a hot spot, medically," she tells me. Diagnosis: an abscess, which is some kind of infection, that needs to be taken care of ASAP. She refers me to a ear/nose/throat (so i thought) doctor that can see me the next day (Friday). It's with a Dr. Ruder in Beverly Hills (which is weird, because I've heard of a Dr. Ruder in BH. He performed a nose surgery/job on one of my students). I wonder....
Well, turns out, it's him. I have officially gone to see a "plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills" (with the exception of Jennifer Garner agreed to marry me, those are the words I've most wanted to say since moving to L.A.). The office is really nice, small, but nice. Very clean, the staff is well-dressed and there are brochures for every kind of procedure imagineable. Also, there's an article about him from the 1994 L.A. Times about how he pioneered an ear replacement surgery. It's pretty cool. The operation costs like $19,000 and insurance coverage is spotty so he asks many families to pay what they can afford and he'll take the rest in kind or for cookies and stuff. He seems like a pretty all right cat.
So one might expect from this medical pioneer in Beverly Hills some kind of super high-tech surgical procedure. Maybe he'll sonically reduce it like they do with kidney stones? or something with a laser, right? I mean he's a plastic surgeon in Bevery Hills. Or maybe he'll bust out some Star Trek medicine (just waving a salt shaker type thing over my face and call me cured). Um, nope.
It was pioneer medicine, as in Willa Cather (19th century American author) O Pioneers! medicine. Essentially, he made a small incision on the bump and squeezed and pressed my face until the infected cyst (i was right about that part anyway) emerged or was "expressed" as he referred to it. Now, this took about 10 minutes of him just kneading my face, like he was making pizza dough. I must say, as he was doing this I was forced to wonder... is this the best option in 2004 in Beverl Hills?
Fortunately, it didn't hurt that much, but it did hurt at times. Enough that I winced a couple times. But i knew what he was doing so it was cool. If it had been excruiciating he would've known that, too. At the end he complimented me as stoic telling me that he probably didn't have any other patients who could've withstood that. i thank him for the compliment but mostly for getting rid of this thing. He does tell me that my follow up is the next Monday (or the day after I'm supposed to get on a plane. so hello postponed vacation. but it's just a week so it's all good.).
The first follow-up exam was good. I am still awaiting the biopsy, but no reasons to be worried. THere's an 80 percent chance i'm good to go and a 20 percent chance it might come back. He said he went with those odds, because if they have to cut in surgically I end up with a scar on my face. so who knows? but I have confidence. Things look good now.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Why are students so much smarter about same-sex marriage
So we had the big gay marriage/morality of homosexuality discussion today at L.A. Youth. By and large, we (editors) this it was a great success. Sure, it got heated (more so than two weeks ago, according to one of the other editors), but students we talked to (liberal ones, granted) said that they felt this was very valuable experience.
we had an evangelical pastor, Ben, who's in charge of his congregation's youth ministry, a baptist pastor James (though for only about an hour), a christian lesbian, Cecelia, and the pastor with the Metro Community Church Neil, (founded as a christian church for LGBT), plus we had 27 teens (four visitor types) and the eds.
most of our student staff is pro-gay marriage and even one, whose disgusted by homosexuals, feels like "it's their business, who is the government to legislate against it." several though are against, though one (joe) didn't show up today but for a minute and the other (nikki who also brought friends) didn't talk at all (and neither did the friends), so essentially today it was Julie left to fend for herself.
we all felt badly for Julie, like perhaps she may have felt ganged up on. we prefaced our discussion by talking about what we were trying to accomplish--basically an exchange of viewpoints in an open environment and to help many of our teen staff get a better handle on the Christian notion of love. but nevertheless, we're not sure if she felt this environment was totally open to her obviously minority point of view. she was a little overmatched against Neil from the Metro Comm Church (MCC). she would quote bible verses and he was ready. obviously, he's been through this before many times and is very savvy. however, he was a little harsh with her.
she is not the most diplomatic in talking about this stuff -- posture, tone of voice, rigid righteousness and she even condescends. right off the bat she referred to neil and cecelia as "supposed christians" (imagine that dripping with sarcasm). well, this time the tables were turned on her. i felt bad though b/c her age left her less diplomatically savvy (compared to say the other pastor) and MCC pastor, Neil, i think took that out on her somewhat. now while i abhor her belief system, we all got the sense that she was pretty angst-ridden when she left and may not have felt like we created a truly open environment. as an aside, the la youth signs that i hang up giving directions on how to buzz in, etc, we both on the ground after the meeting. the sign downstairs was actually outside on the ground. i am taking that at face value, somehow it fell (perhaps a poor taping job). but i cannot say that the thought of an angry student knocking it down hasn't crossed my mind. hell, i wouldn't have mentioned it here if i didn't think that at least once.
andrea (leave it to her as one of our best and brightest) asked one of the best questions... how could these christians have a god that loves the sinner but doesn't accept their "sin." they said that it was analagous to loving a person who cheats on his wife, but obvioulsy being aghast at the cheating. they essentially felt that homosexuality was a behavior that could be changed or at least avoided. coming from the other point of view were our gay speakers and most of our staff, that this is who these people are. period. so if you don't accept them, you cannot love them unconditionally. the idea that god, whose been portrayed to them as all-loving, could discriminate was really offensive to them deeply, we suspected.
our lesbian christian, Cecelia (a friend of rachel hamilton's who used to work here), was great. she was very measured, diplomatic and compassionate. she was less combative than neil. she also helped keep us on point. the discussion as you can imagine moved from legal to moral to the history of marriage (as a form of property exchange) to biblical interpretationism to what defines family. it was kinda nutty. as the hosts we weren't entirely sure when to jump in and when to protect the students. but we remembered that pretty much everyone knew what they were getting into so we didn't want to over-protect them. i mean we started LA Youth b/c teens are underestimated. we didn't want to do that, ya know?
rachel l, one of the teens, brought up a sad story about how gays come to her unitarian church b/c they've been hurtfully drummed out of their previous churches. another student broke down as she told about how her parents won't get divorced b/c of religious rules forbidding it in the catholic church. and yet they are a really messed up family. she just think it's horrible to think that god, who she believes in, would ever create rules that caused so much hurt. she says that christians would use that to discriminate or legislate against someone's happiness is really sad. i had to bring her a tissue and a glass of water after she started crying. my heart just broke with this one.
another student, stephanie, brought up how her mom and dad couldn't get married in church b/c her dad is divorced. but they are good christians -- good people that go to church, contribute to the community. but in some ways they are still second class in the eyes of church leaders, who imply that they're kinda second class in the eyes of god. stephanie is also christian and is very troubled by this idea. how can human interpretation of the divine make anyone second class in the eyes of an all-loving god. she also got choked up and then proceeded to break my heart, too.
i was so proud of the staff members. they showed courage, compassion, conviction, and at least enough open-mindedness to listen to someone else. and to try and adopt a new world view for at least a few minutes. it totally cemented in me the certainty that this is what i should be doing right now.
we had an evangelical pastor, Ben, who's in charge of his congregation's youth ministry, a baptist pastor James (though for only about an hour), a christian lesbian, Cecelia, and the pastor with the Metro Community Church Neil, (founded as a christian church for LGBT), plus we had 27 teens (four visitor types) and the eds.
most of our student staff is pro-gay marriage and even one, whose disgusted by homosexuals, feels like "it's their business, who is the government to legislate against it." several though are against, though one (joe) didn't show up today but for a minute and the other (nikki who also brought friends) didn't talk at all (and neither did the friends), so essentially today it was Julie left to fend for herself.
we all felt badly for Julie, like perhaps she may have felt ganged up on. we prefaced our discussion by talking about what we were trying to accomplish--basically an exchange of viewpoints in an open environment and to help many of our teen staff get a better handle on the Christian notion of love. but nevertheless, we're not sure if she felt this environment was totally open to her obviously minority point of view. she was a little overmatched against Neil from the Metro Comm Church (MCC). she would quote bible verses and he was ready. obviously, he's been through this before many times and is very savvy. however, he was a little harsh with her.
she is not the most diplomatic in talking about this stuff -- posture, tone of voice, rigid righteousness and she even condescends. right off the bat she referred to neil and cecelia as "supposed christians" (imagine that dripping with sarcasm). well, this time the tables were turned on her. i felt bad though b/c her age left her less diplomatically savvy (compared to say the other pastor) and MCC pastor, Neil, i think took that out on her somewhat. now while i abhor her belief system, we all got the sense that she was pretty angst-ridden when she left and may not have felt like we created a truly open environment. as an aside, the la youth signs that i hang up giving directions on how to buzz in, etc, we both on the ground after the meeting. the sign downstairs was actually outside on the ground. i am taking that at face value, somehow it fell (perhaps a poor taping job). but i cannot say that the thought of an angry student knocking it down hasn't crossed my mind. hell, i wouldn't have mentioned it here if i didn't think that at least once.
andrea (leave it to her as one of our best and brightest) asked one of the best questions... how could these christians have a god that loves the sinner but doesn't accept their "sin." they said that it was analagous to loving a person who cheats on his wife, but obvioulsy being aghast at the cheating. they essentially felt that homosexuality was a behavior that could be changed or at least avoided. coming from the other point of view were our gay speakers and most of our staff, that this is who these people are. period. so if you don't accept them, you cannot love them unconditionally. the idea that god, whose been portrayed to them as all-loving, could discriminate was really offensive to them deeply, we suspected.
our lesbian christian, Cecelia (a friend of rachel hamilton's who used to work here), was great. she was very measured, diplomatic and compassionate. she was less combative than neil. she also helped keep us on point. the discussion as you can imagine moved from legal to moral to the history of marriage (as a form of property exchange) to biblical interpretationism to what defines family. it was kinda nutty. as the hosts we weren't entirely sure when to jump in and when to protect the students. but we remembered that pretty much everyone knew what they were getting into so we didn't want to over-protect them. i mean we started LA Youth b/c teens are underestimated. we didn't want to do that, ya know?
rachel l, one of the teens, brought up a sad story about how gays come to her unitarian church b/c they've been hurtfully drummed out of their previous churches. another student broke down as she told about how her parents won't get divorced b/c of religious rules forbidding it in the catholic church. and yet they are a really messed up family. she just think it's horrible to think that god, who she believes in, would ever create rules that caused so much hurt. she says that christians would use that to discriminate or legislate against someone's happiness is really sad. i had to bring her a tissue and a glass of water after she started crying. my heart just broke with this one.
another student, stephanie, brought up how her mom and dad couldn't get married in church b/c her dad is divorced. but they are good christians -- good people that go to church, contribute to the community. but in some ways they are still second class in the eyes of church leaders, who imply that they're kinda second class in the eyes of god. stephanie is also christian and is very troubled by this idea. how can human interpretation of the divine make anyone second class in the eyes of an all-loving god. she also got choked up and then proceeded to break my heart, too.
i was so proud of the staff members. they showed courage, compassion, conviction, and at least enough open-mindedness to listen to someone else. and to try and adopt a new world view for at least a few minutes. it totally cemented in me the certainty that this is what i should be doing right now.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Bad Shins concert, great concert story
What do they always say? Location, location, location. Well, that sure does apply to concerts (and the spot stakes out when watching a concert).
My adventure to check out The Shins in concert all began with a Ticketmaster.com ream, that was in part my own fault. I didn't learn of their Feb. 5-6 shows in Los Angeles until some time in January (more than three weeks after the tickets went on sale), but the Ticketmaster Web site said that tickets were still available for the Los Angeles shows. Well, after like 15 minutes of trying I realize that the show is in fact probably sold out, so I give up and get pissed (of course this is after I had promised a friend -- designer Amy -- that I'd get us tickets). Well, there was good news though, I found out that they were playing in San Diego Sunday, the 8th. And since I don't work Mondays... voila. Designer Amy is in for two tickets, so things are cool. I'll drive and we'll enjoy my favorite Republican stronghold -- San Diego County.
Fast forward to mid January... Amy and I meet up on a Saturday night to exchange tickets for cash. The only thing worth noting right now is that Amy has a bit of a Costanza wallet, overstuffed with stuff, but yet organized in its own system.
Thursday Feb. 5: Amy and I exchange a few emails about the show, in one of which she tells me that she needs to find her tickets to the show. I think nothing of it, b/c i've misplaced pretty much every concert ticket in my life prior to the show.
Saturday Feb. 7 (evening): Amy calls with "weird news." I'm intrigued but not in a totally good way. "Um, I have torn apart my apartment and I cannot find my ticket." OUCH. Oddly though, and this is a totally cool reflection on her, she feels really bad that she let me down b/c we had made plans to drive down there and now I was left stuck on the long drive. She offers to join me on the drive down with her boyfriend and they'd just hang out in San Diego while I'm rocking at the show, and then we'd drive back (like I said, she's good people). I tell her that I appreciate the offer, but it's cool. And being the great friend that I am I express my sympathy and then offer this great pearl of comfort. "I feel really bad because you already laid out for the two tickets. That was like $34.' Trying to catch myself from the unintended bad vibe I say: "At least it wasn't like Radiohead, which costed like $60." I tell her that if she finds the ticket to let me know b/c I ain't leaving until like 2 p.m. earliest the next day.
BAD KARMA?
So I wake up and have an "idea." Maybe we'll just pile in the car anyway and buy tickets down there. After all, he tickets are just $14 at the door. That's one we can spring for again (woooo-hooo four tickets to one show for two people). However, when I call the bar, it's sold out. But I learn that the really good news is that there are going to be two opening acts. Um, this could be a late night... When I call Amy that morning, she gives me the bad news, too, no ticket. No big worries. I'll still meet up with Kerri (friend from Sweet Home class of 93) for dinner and then rock and roll the show.
Eventually though I hit the road and with the exception of consistently choosing the incorrect lane and getting stuck behind the slowest person on the road, things are good. In fact, without Amy in the car it afforded me the opportunity to go American Idol in my car. I listened to three songs from Avenue Q, which Amy dumped onto my iPod, quite a few times and got to sing along. To all who've never heard me sing before... you never will. It's not pretty. Oh btw, of course I listened to The Shins, too. By the time I get to San Diego, I am stoked about the upcoming show. And any bad karma vibes appear to be gone.
I meet Kerri and we head to the Indigo Grill (a huge recommendation). They serve fusiony Mex food in a bistro-ish kinda setting. Very good food, try the squid ink pasta and salmon or the shrimp tamales. Also, apparently the restaurant encourages strangers at different tables to converse, as evidenced by the really loud pair of tables behind us. Oh well, as you know, the opportunity to roll my eyes at strangers is what I live for (as Kerri did, too, at least while we were at dinner). We finish dinner around 8:30 p.m. Doors opened at 8, but with two opening acts I knew that I had time.
OK, running diary time....
9:03 p.m. After getting a teeny bit lost on the way to Cane's I make my way into the bar. It's crowded but not jammed. It's actually kinda well lit inside, more so than a typical bar is for live music. But it's all right, I figure that since it's an opening act they'll dim the lights once The Shins take the stage. I wind my way to the bar and order a Guinness. $5 please. I'm actually happy with that. Drinks at The Troubador on Santa Monica Blvd were like $7.50. I finally start listening to the band -- it's actually just a guitarist and a drummer -- and they SUCK. Like really just not good. It made me recall Kevin Webster and something he told me back in junior high when I dreamed of starting a metal band. "Don't worry about playing guitar, just get an effects pedal. That'll work." Well that's what this dude's vocals sounded like. They just turned up the reverb and echo and distortion and played things really loudly, like loud enough that you feel it in all your bodily crevices.
9:10 p.m. I wend my way toward the back of the bar, which is basic rectangular shape. The band is on a slightly raised stage up against one wall. It's about 70 feet or so to the other wall, but about 50 feet from the stage is a railing and a stair case that leads to an upper level. There are two bars, on the walls perpendicular to the stage. It's definitely almost shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, but still room to maneuver. I'm standing right near the railing in front of a small staircase that leads up to a raised level between the railing and the fall wall, it's the back of the bar. Right now, the music is louder and for the first time in my life I am starting to actively dislike a band playing in front of me. They finish a song, and I actually refuse to clap. I know, really bad form, but these guys really suck. I played music live for christ's sake for many years in high school, so i know the desire for applause, but at least I wasn't pretentious sucky and just loud to distort our lack of talent.
9:15 p.m. A really stinky dude walks by me. Like hardcore B.O. It's coming from one of my fave concert attendees -- the white guy with dreadlocks. Suddenly, I decide to start acting under orders and taking good note of my environment. Since, Amy couldn't come to the show, she wanted a full report. The crowd looks like that kinda typical alt-rock show crowd. Lots of faded jeans, tattered cuff cotton cargo type pants, tight short sleeve vintage button downs over long-sleeve thermals, moppy, oily hair that is intentionally unwashed and looks so, and low-top Chuck Taylors. That's the guys. Girls are wearing the standard garb, too: floor-length skirts of denim or corduoroy, low-top chuck taylors, jeans that are kinda low-cut, but it's an alt-rock crunchyish show, not hip-hop. lots of T-shirts and zip-up sweat-suit jackets (think Royal Tennenbaums). Also, the issue of hygiene arose. In fact at about this time a girl with clean hair walked by and the smell of freshly shampooed hair actually caught my attention. That's not the best environment to be in. Oh well, at least, I figure that by this time we've got only about a half hour left of band two and then the Shins. wooooo-hoooooo!!
9:25 p.m. Acting under orders to explore (and of course natural curiousity) I explore the rest of the bar. The back wall actually has a window bar -- one from which they sell just bottles of beer and slices of pizza and bottled water. One good thing about being back here, the acoustics are much better. The vocals are more easily understood, but now his unclear enunciation makes him hard to understand and they still suck. Thankfully they're done in just a few minutes.
9:40-10:07 p.m. I start feeling the frustration of the window bartender. Despite two signs that state the prices and what she's selling, there are about a half dozen questions in those 27 minutes asking for mixed drinks or draft beers and one for like a burrito. I also see two great shirts. One has the six multi-faced Dungeons and Dragons dice with the words "Choose your poison" underneath the sketches. It's worn by a brown haired pony-tailed dude with glasses -- classic D&D nerd. The other great shirt of the night, a girl wearing a shirt that says "Guten Tag, Berliner." Designer Amy happens to have the same shirt, I figure that this is good karma.
10:10ish p.m. The band takes the stage. However, right away it sounds nothing like The Shins. No cool, stripped down melodies buttressed by unexpected harmonies. No smooth vocals. Instead it's kind of a rocky hook followed up by Thudding bass drum and chords. Uh-oh. My worst fear comes true. That act I walked in on was only the first act. The second act is just taking the stage. When are the SHins going to come on? I still have to drive back to LA tonight!!! After the first song, the singer (who is accompanied by only a drummer, but I couldn't tell at first because of the whole being short thing), says "we're the magical magicians." Even by their name, I know this won't be good. Later he thanks "All night radio" the first band, who was even worse than Magical Magicians. I figure that this is a conspiracy by the Shins to have shitty bands open for them so that they'll sound great.
10:25 p.m. The bartender asks my opinion of the Magical Magicians. I tell her that they suck and bam! instant friendship. Mary goes on to regale me with stories of other bad bands that have appeared at Cane's or bands who didn't have great shows here, including Damien Rice (who i'm gonna see later). the problem there was that Cane's is great for barbusting shows, not intimate stuff and damien rice is the latter. someone actually shooshed her while she was taking a drink order at that show. wow! I notice that not many people are tipping her and point that out. She laments it, but says unfortunately, it's too common when one works back in window bar. I make sure to drop a buck in the bucket when i order my $3 Coors Lights. More people ask for mixed drinks and express surprise when they can't get them. both of us roll our eyes. We end up talking straight through the rest of the Magical Magicians' show. Mary tells me how this is like the best spot to people watch. I agree. I see more weirdos throughout... more white afros and white dreadlocks, like two whole minorities (i've never been in a whiter environment in since moving to SoCal), more chuck taylors, and lots of people who don't seem to be huge Shins fans, but instead feel like they should be at this show b/c of their age and overall aesthetic. Also, i watch one girl clamor for a manager because there's a radio on upstairs and it had better be off during the Shins show or she is going to be pissed.
10:40 p.m. The Magical Magicians finish and I realize that i've been talking to Mary, who btw is kind of not unattractive in a major way -- but she's married. whatever, i realize it's probably OK that Amy couldn't make the show b/c otherwise i don't spend this much time with the tight shirt wearing beautiful blonde bartender, who's married, i know.
11:07 p.m. The Shins finally take the stage!!! The crowd gets psyched, about a gazillion times more than they did for either of the two prior acts. They open rocking out and it's great. The crowd gets a lot quieter, unlike with the other bands who were largely talked over. The band's second song is Kissing the Lipless, the first song off of "Chutes too narrow." the crowd is grooving even doing a little white kids at an alt show moves. But then the show takes a not so great turn. First off, the vocals mics are still set too low, as they've been all night. And with the acoustics or something when they did more stripped down songs (which they have some great ones) they just didn't work that great. The sound didn't seem to carry well enough or something so the whole crowd being spellbound by the great slow song thing didn't happen. In fact, some people started actually talking, including the dudes next to me at the window bar. They were on the other side actually standing in front of the cash register, no matter how many times Mary asked the to move. I leave to go to the bathroom, too many coors lights.
11:15 p.m. I get back from the bathroom, which btw at Cane's are really clean (kinda like all of San Diego), and my spot is gone. I had been standing just off to the side of the window bar, where another dude and his girlfriend were now. I was forced to stand in front of the window bar now. Technically, I was being the drunk talking dudes now, but Mary gave me the OK and even told me that she'd make sure to tell a manager "I was her cool friend" if they came to move me. The show continues... going along the same... faster, more-rocking songs go over great, while slower more moody stuff is just not working in this enviro. maybe if i was right up at the stage it would have been great... but being in back it was like being at a party with background music almost. Mary gets me my first free beer.
REST OF SHOW: Highlights included "So Says I" "Kissing the Lipless" and "Turn a Square." Despite the lack of Coldplay show vibes (which had like 18,000 people singing along), it was a damn fine show, and just for $17. It wasn't a hostile crowd or anything and most of them seemed to appreciate the Shins. Even some of the people who appeared just b/c they thought they should i think got won over.
Last thing to note... After the show was over, around 12:37 a.m., they stuck the last pizza back in the oven to warm it up. Well, i look back and notice that it's on fire!!!! well, a tiny corner is. I alert Mary and her manager, Steve. They're eternally thankful, give me another free beer, a free bottled water for the road and free piece of unburned pizza (which was really good). So I recommend Cane's, too. Steve even gave me his card and told me to look him up if I'm back, as did my new fave bartender, Mary. OK, i might have a slight crush on her. But she's married.
My adventure to check out The Shins in concert all began with a Ticketmaster.com ream, that was in part my own fault. I didn't learn of their Feb. 5-6 shows in Los Angeles until some time in January (more than three weeks after the tickets went on sale), but the Ticketmaster Web site said that tickets were still available for the Los Angeles shows. Well, after like 15 minutes of trying I realize that the show is in fact probably sold out, so I give up and get pissed (of course this is after I had promised a friend -- designer Amy -- that I'd get us tickets). Well, there was good news though, I found out that they were playing in San Diego Sunday, the 8th. And since I don't work Mondays... voila. Designer Amy is in for two tickets, so things are cool. I'll drive and we'll enjoy my favorite Republican stronghold -- San Diego County.
Fast forward to mid January... Amy and I meet up on a Saturday night to exchange tickets for cash. The only thing worth noting right now is that Amy has a bit of a Costanza wallet, overstuffed with stuff, but yet organized in its own system.
Thursday Feb. 5: Amy and I exchange a few emails about the show, in one of which she tells me that she needs to find her tickets to the show. I think nothing of it, b/c i've misplaced pretty much every concert ticket in my life prior to the show.
Saturday Feb. 7 (evening): Amy calls with "weird news." I'm intrigued but not in a totally good way. "Um, I have torn apart my apartment and I cannot find my ticket." OUCH. Oddly though, and this is a totally cool reflection on her, she feels really bad that she let me down b/c we had made plans to drive down there and now I was left stuck on the long drive. She offers to join me on the drive down with her boyfriend and they'd just hang out in San Diego while I'm rocking at the show, and then we'd drive back (like I said, she's good people). I tell her that I appreciate the offer, but it's cool. And being the great friend that I am I express my sympathy and then offer this great pearl of comfort. "I feel really bad because you already laid out for the two tickets. That was like $34.' Trying to catch myself from the unintended bad vibe I say: "At least it wasn't like Radiohead, which costed like $60." I tell her that if she finds the ticket to let me know b/c I ain't leaving until like 2 p.m. earliest the next day.
BAD KARMA?
So I wake up and have an "idea." Maybe we'll just pile in the car anyway and buy tickets down there. After all, he tickets are just $14 at the door. That's one we can spring for again (woooo-hooo four tickets to one show for two people). However, when I call the bar, it's sold out. But I learn that the really good news is that there are going to be two opening acts. Um, this could be a late night... When I call Amy that morning, she gives me the bad news, too, no ticket. No big worries. I'll still meet up with Kerri (friend from Sweet Home class of 93) for dinner and then rock and roll the show.
Eventually though I hit the road and with the exception of consistently choosing the incorrect lane and getting stuck behind the slowest person on the road, things are good. In fact, without Amy in the car it afforded me the opportunity to go American Idol in my car. I listened to three songs from Avenue Q, which Amy dumped onto my iPod, quite a few times and got to sing along. To all who've never heard me sing before... you never will. It's not pretty. Oh btw, of course I listened to The Shins, too. By the time I get to San Diego, I am stoked about the upcoming show. And any bad karma vibes appear to be gone.
I meet Kerri and we head to the Indigo Grill (a huge recommendation). They serve fusiony Mex food in a bistro-ish kinda setting. Very good food, try the squid ink pasta and salmon or the shrimp tamales. Also, apparently the restaurant encourages strangers at different tables to converse, as evidenced by the really loud pair of tables behind us. Oh well, as you know, the opportunity to roll my eyes at strangers is what I live for (as Kerri did, too, at least while we were at dinner). We finish dinner around 8:30 p.m. Doors opened at 8, but with two opening acts I knew that I had time.
OK, running diary time....
9:03 p.m. After getting a teeny bit lost on the way to Cane's I make my way into the bar. It's crowded but not jammed. It's actually kinda well lit inside, more so than a typical bar is for live music. But it's all right, I figure that since it's an opening act they'll dim the lights once The Shins take the stage. I wind my way to the bar and order a Guinness. $5 please. I'm actually happy with that. Drinks at The Troubador on Santa Monica Blvd were like $7.50. I finally start listening to the band -- it's actually just a guitarist and a drummer -- and they SUCK. Like really just not good. It made me recall Kevin Webster and something he told me back in junior high when I dreamed of starting a metal band. "Don't worry about playing guitar, just get an effects pedal. That'll work." Well that's what this dude's vocals sounded like. They just turned up the reverb and echo and distortion and played things really loudly, like loud enough that you feel it in all your bodily crevices.
9:10 p.m. I wend my way toward the back of the bar, which is basic rectangular shape. The band is on a slightly raised stage up against one wall. It's about 70 feet or so to the other wall, but about 50 feet from the stage is a railing and a stair case that leads to an upper level. There are two bars, on the walls perpendicular to the stage. It's definitely almost shoulder-to-shoulder crowded, but still room to maneuver. I'm standing right near the railing in front of a small staircase that leads up to a raised level between the railing and the fall wall, it's the back of the bar. Right now, the music is louder and for the first time in my life I am starting to actively dislike a band playing in front of me. They finish a song, and I actually refuse to clap. I know, really bad form, but these guys really suck. I played music live for christ's sake for many years in high school, so i know the desire for applause, but at least I wasn't pretentious sucky and just loud to distort our lack of talent.
9:15 p.m. A really stinky dude walks by me. Like hardcore B.O. It's coming from one of my fave concert attendees -- the white guy with dreadlocks. Suddenly, I decide to start acting under orders and taking good note of my environment. Since, Amy couldn't come to the show, she wanted a full report. The crowd looks like that kinda typical alt-rock show crowd. Lots of faded jeans, tattered cuff cotton cargo type pants, tight short sleeve vintage button downs over long-sleeve thermals, moppy, oily hair that is intentionally unwashed and looks so, and low-top Chuck Taylors. That's the guys. Girls are wearing the standard garb, too: floor-length skirts of denim or corduoroy, low-top chuck taylors, jeans that are kinda low-cut, but it's an alt-rock crunchyish show, not hip-hop. lots of T-shirts and zip-up sweat-suit jackets (think Royal Tennenbaums). Also, the issue of hygiene arose. In fact at about this time a girl with clean hair walked by and the smell of freshly shampooed hair actually caught my attention. That's not the best environment to be in. Oh well, at least, I figure that by this time we've got only about a half hour left of band two and then the Shins. wooooo-hoooooo!!
9:25 p.m. Acting under orders to explore (and of course natural curiousity) I explore the rest of the bar. The back wall actually has a window bar -- one from which they sell just bottles of beer and slices of pizza and bottled water. One good thing about being back here, the acoustics are much better. The vocals are more easily understood, but now his unclear enunciation makes him hard to understand and they still suck. Thankfully they're done in just a few minutes.
9:40-10:07 p.m. I start feeling the frustration of the window bartender. Despite two signs that state the prices and what she's selling, there are about a half dozen questions in those 27 minutes asking for mixed drinks or draft beers and one for like a burrito. I also see two great shirts. One has the six multi-faced Dungeons and Dragons dice with the words "Choose your poison" underneath the sketches. It's worn by a brown haired pony-tailed dude with glasses -- classic D&D nerd. The other great shirt of the night, a girl wearing a shirt that says "Guten Tag, Berliner." Designer Amy happens to have the same shirt, I figure that this is good karma.
10:10ish p.m. The band takes the stage. However, right away it sounds nothing like The Shins. No cool, stripped down melodies buttressed by unexpected harmonies. No smooth vocals. Instead it's kind of a rocky hook followed up by Thudding bass drum and chords. Uh-oh. My worst fear comes true. That act I walked in on was only the first act. The second act is just taking the stage. When are the SHins going to come on? I still have to drive back to LA tonight!!! After the first song, the singer (who is accompanied by only a drummer, but I couldn't tell at first because of the whole being short thing), says "we're the magical magicians." Even by their name, I know this won't be good. Later he thanks "All night radio" the first band, who was even worse than Magical Magicians. I figure that this is a conspiracy by the Shins to have shitty bands open for them so that they'll sound great.
10:25 p.m. The bartender asks my opinion of the Magical Magicians. I tell her that they suck and bam! instant friendship. Mary goes on to regale me with stories of other bad bands that have appeared at Cane's or bands who didn't have great shows here, including Damien Rice (who i'm gonna see later). the problem there was that Cane's is great for barbusting shows, not intimate stuff and damien rice is the latter. someone actually shooshed her while she was taking a drink order at that show. wow! I notice that not many people are tipping her and point that out. She laments it, but says unfortunately, it's too common when one works back in window bar. I make sure to drop a buck in the bucket when i order my $3 Coors Lights. More people ask for mixed drinks and express surprise when they can't get them. both of us roll our eyes. We end up talking straight through the rest of the Magical Magicians' show. Mary tells me how this is like the best spot to people watch. I agree. I see more weirdos throughout... more white afros and white dreadlocks, like two whole minorities (i've never been in a whiter environment in since moving to SoCal), more chuck taylors, and lots of people who don't seem to be huge Shins fans, but instead feel like they should be at this show b/c of their age and overall aesthetic. Also, i watch one girl clamor for a manager because there's a radio on upstairs and it had better be off during the Shins show or she is going to be pissed.
10:40 p.m. The Magical Magicians finish and I realize that i've been talking to Mary, who btw is kind of not unattractive in a major way -- but she's married. whatever, i realize it's probably OK that Amy couldn't make the show b/c otherwise i don't spend this much time with the tight shirt wearing beautiful blonde bartender, who's married, i know.
11:07 p.m. The Shins finally take the stage!!! The crowd gets psyched, about a gazillion times more than they did for either of the two prior acts. They open rocking out and it's great. The crowd gets a lot quieter, unlike with the other bands who were largely talked over. The band's second song is Kissing the Lipless, the first song off of "Chutes too narrow." the crowd is grooving even doing a little white kids at an alt show moves. But then the show takes a not so great turn. First off, the vocals mics are still set too low, as they've been all night. And with the acoustics or something when they did more stripped down songs (which they have some great ones) they just didn't work that great. The sound didn't seem to carry well enough or something so the whole crowd being spellbound by the great slow song thing didn't happen. In fact, some people started actually talking, including the dudes next to me at the window bar. They were on the other side actually standing in front of the cash register, no matter how many times Mary asked the to move. I leave to go to the bathroom, too many coors lights.
11:15 p.m. I get back from the bathroom, which btw at Cane's are really clean (kinda like all of San Diego), and my spot is gone. I had been standing just off to the side of the window bar, where another dude and his girlfriend were now. I was forced to stand in front of the window bar now. Technically, I was being the drunk talking dudes now, but Mary gave me the OK and even told me that she'd make sure to tell a manager "I was her cool friend" if they came to move me. The show continues... going along the same... faster, more-rocking songs go over great, while slower more moody stuff is just not working in this enviro. maybe if i was right up at the stage it would have been great... but being in back it was like being at a party with background music almost. Mary gets me my first free beer.
REST OF SHOW: Highlights included "So Says I" "Kissing the Lipless" and "Turn a Square." Despite the lack of Coldplay show vibes (which had like 18,000 people singing along), it was a damn fine show, and just for $17. It wasn't a hostile crowd or anything and most of them seemed to appreciate the Shins. Even some of the people who appeared just b/c they thought they should i think got won over.
Last thing to note... After the show was over, around 12:37 a.m., they stuck the last pizza back in the oven to warm it up. Well, i look back and notice that it's on fire!!!! well, a tiny corner is. I alert Mary and her manager, Steve. They're eternally thankful, give me another free beer, a free bottled water for the road and free piece of unburned pizza (which was really good). So I recommend Cane's, too. Steve even gave me his card and told me to look him up if I'm back, as did my new fave bartender, Mary. OK, i might have a slight crush on her. But she's married.
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