Built to Spill Friday, Low Saturday, Blog Sunday

Built to Spill played at the Crystal Ballroom, with Camper Van Beethoven opening. It was good, though the Crystal is situated atop a dance club, so between numbers there was an annoying thumping from below. Turns out I'm not a big fan of the Crystal...

Low at the Doug Fir:

Low played an amazing set, mixing the old with the new, and they seemed happy to be there. The new bassist doesn't give the audience a view of his behind as Zak Sally used to, but he has the musical patience to continue in Sally's tradition of minimally complimenting Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker's sparse, open compositions, allowing the music to flow majestically through the air and into the ears and consciousnesses of the listeners. It was truly a sight to behold. Low was comfortable on stage, and they've matured well. When I saw them play in support of The Great Destroyer album, Sparhawk was visibly wired and agitated, and there was a sense that it could all unravel at any minute. This time he was comfortable onstage, joking with the audience, and he just seemed to be enjoying himself.

The audience was very receptive. I've gotten used to listening to Low under the obnoxious hum of hundreds of competing conversations. It's something I've come to expect. But Low at the Doug Fir had none of that. The appreciation and understanding of the audience was noted and appreciated. I did hear people telling others to be quiet, but the people-who-like-to-pay-to-go-somewhere-and-talk were in the minority.

EPILOGUE

*Deleted due to the deafening sound of crickets*

Leomange in Denver, Part 3 (I left my hoodie in Colorado)

Butler was heading back to Winter Park when I got into AJ's car to hang out for a bit. It was when we got back to his house that I realized my hoodie was in Butler's backseat. I had thrown it back there when it got toasty on the way down the mountain. Not a huge deal, but explitive-worthy. Sh--.

I went to Breckenridge for the afternoon with the mother, where I saw an old friend randomly--he was on his phone on his lunch hour on the sidewalk across the street from where we were having lunch. It was a brief encounter. It was cool.

Happy hour.

Benny's.

Happy hour.

Missed Mo. She couldn't make it up from Fountain til the evening, making our lunch plans too early for her. My evening was booked. It was my last night in town. It's too bad, but that's how life goes sometimes. It's ok, though, because I'm not used to that much companionship and I needed some down time to be by myself, to reflect. I went to the Art Museum. A new addition opened up right after I moved away, or some time around then, so I wanted to see what they had been building as I was preparing to move. It was on my walk to work (in the old days), so I was able to watch the building of it progress. It was pretty cool. The two exhibits that stood out were by some guy named Still and some guy named Bayer. But more of what struck me was the angle of the walls. Walls that angle away from you have a way of creating a bit of vertigo, or at least some dizzyness. It wasn't overwhelming, but it took me by surprise, and a couple of times I had to hold on to the railing; like when looking out at the stairwells that surrounded some empty space. And on the angled walls of the stairwells were blue digital numbers that shimmered in the soft light. Not Escher surreal, but pretty damn cool to be immersed in.

Then I met my brother for coffee and had dinner with the family. I stayed in Lakewood with my brother (the middle one of the three of us). My oldest brother returned the classical guitar that he held on for safe keeping. It was dirty... but he had fairly recently restrung it with some expensive strings. The tone is better than I remember. In fact, the tone is awesome. I've had this guitar since my thirteenth birthday. I know he was disappointed to be returning it, but he knows I appreciate it.

EPILOGUE

A dog missed it's connecting flight, delaying us by half an hour as the airline and the airport tried to recover the pooch. It was lost at DIA and its owner was asked to get off the plane so the rest of us could get going while what happened was figured out.

The Cascades and Mount Hood marked my return home. Well, actually I saw Mount Bachelor first, I think.

After getting home and eating, I took a nap. An hour later I awoke to my neighbor and her friends carrying on loudly in the parking lot. The perfect catnap to start my night.

I saw Damien Jurado play Music Fest NW at Berbati's Pan. It was good. Eric Fisher (of Jurado's band) told me they are working on releasing another CD in the spring, so another tour should be in the works soon. One of my neighbors convinced me to stick around for that night's headliners, Okkervil River (or something like that), and I made it through 4 or 5 songs. The singer arrived on stage stumbling drunk and the band just wasn't that tight. I don't particularly blame them since it was after midnight when they went on, but I can see drunken hipsters all over this town--no need to pay to see them.

I went home, slept, and played my classical all day Sunday. My boss' last day was today. Still no word on his replacement. Life goes on, so it goes, who knows what the future holds...

Leomange in Denver, Part 2 (reacquaintance and recovery)

Helskel hosted a party at his place. I saw many of my old friends and met H's apostrophe, Val. By the end of the night, I broke my vow of avoiding the shots, but the two-fisted drinking (i.e., a water back all night long) persisted, making the following morning not so bad.

Not that I was bright-eyed or anything else that would follow a sober night and a good night's sleep, but it could've been much worse.

I had Watercourse again, this time for breakfast (tried the Mercury Cafe, but they were closed). Four words: Banana Bread French Toast. Butler had something with sweet potato home fries (mixed with feta and olives and capers). As expensive as the place now seems, it's worth it. O. M. G.

Tone gave me a CD of his band, The Anti-Glacier Movement, playing at the Larimer Lounge a couple of weeks back. They are worth checking out (you can find them on MySpace). My neighbors in Portland will soon be hearing them heavily in my rotation.

Then I rode up to Winter Park where Butler has lived for the past 4 days (and where I'm writing from right now). Colorado is a lot greener than I remember, but still less than I'm used to. I hear they've been getting more of the semi-arid part of the semi-arid desert description that this part of the country is known for.

I think I'm mostly re-acclimated to this climate/altitude. I'm getting winded in Winter Park (8-9,000 ft), but that should make it easier when I return to a mile high this evening.

Leomange in Denver, part 1 (the trip)

the night before was long, and the sleep was short. the justification was that the missed sleep could be made up for on the plane.

I awoke with pain between the ears. I had to get moving so I could leave home to return to my old home and stay for a week, only to return home once more. Shower, coffee, pack the last bits, play the tune I figured out earlier in the week one more time on guitar, and try not to forget anything.

I got to the bus stop and saw a spent banana peel. I could really use my last banana right about now, but it's still on the fridge. It'll still be on the fridge when I get home, though a bit crispier and quite a bit darker. Shoot.

Heard an altercation between two people with differing views on whether or not one should be allowed to park in front of a driveway. The one in the wrong escalated the exchange to a shouted "fuck you!" There was a bit more, but it didn't come to blows.

Rode the bus, got off the bus, transferred to the Max ("Lightrail" to the Portland-lingo-impaired).

As I was boarding the Max, I walked in front of a homeless guy who had some words to say. Eventually I turned to see that apparently he was talking to me. I didn't get every word, but as it turns out, he thinks I'm a "four-eyed motherfucker." Fair enough. I told him I was sorry he felt that way and got on the train...

By the time I got to the airport, fatigue was second only to headache in my feelings. I checked in and bought a sandwich, banana (could've, should've, would've been a redundant purchase!), and a coffee. I ate and felt better, then went to security. Apparently coffee is still on the list of no-no's in the airport security game. Downed as much as I could before going through security, but most of the coffee was wasted. When I reached my gate I streched out over four seats and read my magazine. Eventually the headache was kickin', so I picked up some Advil. I got back to the gate and they were boarding my plane.

I shared my row with Amelia, a student from Mexico who's working on her degree in saving a small part of the world. We talked about art and culture and what brought us both to the current moment. She must be over ten years younger than I, but she's far more travelled. I was about to say more experienced, but that would be an unfair deprecation of my experience. Mine may not be quite as varied, but it's just as valid. But asides aside.

I said goodbye to her at baggage claim, and said it was nice to have met her. And it was. Those who've seen (or read) Fight Club know the concept of single serving friends. I mean no disrespect calling her such, but I think that's the case.

Dinner was had at Watercourse with my mother and brothers. The restaurant moved, and they gussied up the place and raised their prices, but at least the food was still delicious. Though I miss the old and funky. It's much more Denver now, as, I guess, it used to be more Portland... though I hadn't seen it that way before.

I definitely think my mother is crazy, but I love her anyway, in spite of, and because of that. And I was struck by how similar I am to my brothers (or they are to me... perspective is a slippery thing as the youngest). When you live so close together, you focus on the differences. When you go away for a while, the similarities are much more pronounced.

Now I sit here alone in my mother's apartment, and it's time for bed. It's been a long day--please forgive any errors my usual proofreading would have caught. I'm too tired to polish this one...