Some Free Time... Jun. 1st, 2010

So I have some free time at 3 AM on Wednesday, June 2nd, 2010.  I figured I might as well blog a bit.  I am drinking my Grandfather Kirschnick's favorite drink, scotch; Cutty Sark, to be exact.  I have had a very relaxing day, yet productive.  There is a storm rolling through Chicago right now.  A very violent, electrified storm, that is supposed to create flooding.  I just stood outside thinking about what I was going to write.  This is what it is...

I saw a couple raccoons tonight.  The first was out before sunset, that is not normal.   Usually they don't come out until after the sun sets, but this one was out scavenging for food early.  The second was right before sunset, and it was at the fence looking at me while I smoked.  I made a few loud noises, and it ran away.  Seconds later it was in my neighbor's yard, I guess it had run around the garage over the fence and I saw it climb another fence, jump into a pine tree and scurry up into the branches.  Just another few seconds later I saw my neighbor; the wife; come into view rolling her mountain bike into the yard.  Now I had just scared the coon from the alley, she scared it from the yard, but thinking about it, I actually think it might have been looking for shelter.  The storm was a few hours away, but animals always know when it is coming.  Hence the early food gathering by the other coon a few hours earlier.  Anyway, I can't say for certain, but this storm is thundering outside at the moment while I write this, so I do believe what I am writing is the truth.

As for the rest of life, well I did go out to those two concerts on Saturday.  I went to see Shot Baker, and they are great as always.  They played the Lincoln Hall theatre on Lincoln Ave. and Fullerton Ave. in Chicago.  I had never been there; my buddy Tim Bauer says it is new; but it turned out to be a nice venue.  They had $3 busch light tall boys, brings me back to my youth.  The Smoking Popes were the headliners, and it was quite comical.  There were a ton of people there; expecting I think to see Shot Baker have a similar sound, but no, that is not the case.  Actually, Shot Baker is a new college punk band, while The Smoking Popes are an 80s style, early Emo band if you will, that capture the youth of a yesterday and a time when people saw only selfishness.  The Smoking Popes broke the barriers of selfishness, sort of reminiscent of the 1960s.  They had a lot of fans.  Actually, some of the gutter punks/crusty punks I hung out with in the 80s and 90s like them, but never really would go to their shows.  They are a Chicago band, and everyone into music, sports, movies, comedy, etc. from Chicago supports those that come from here.  We are not a city divided by thoughts, only by color.  You may think that is racist, just come live here, and you will see I am not saying anything far from the truth.

So the concert was good, but I had to live halfway through The Smoking Popes set.  I started to realize how far from that time period I have traveled.  I am beyond all the lyrics now.  All the political, and communal mentality that was the epitome of their music.  I went outside to smoke.  Before leaving though, I took a few notes.  I noticed that the fans were like maggots being born in a pile of shit.  I looked around the venue.  There were faces that were there for Shot Baker, but left after the first 2 or 3 songs because it wasn't their scene.  Yet, as The Smoking Popes came on stage, the place filled up again.  Of course it happened to be the first night of the Stanley Cup Finals, which happen to include The Chicago Blackhawks.  The big screen was lowered over the stage in between bands.  And I know that a lot of people were present before Shot Baker took the stage, but went outside the theatre to watch the game in the bar, when Shot Baker began to play and the screen was retracted for the concert.  These people came back for The Smoking Popes.  Was it because the game had ended before the headliners took the stage?  Or were they die hard fans?  I do not know, but the place filled up, and I remember thinking of maggots being born into a pile of cow dung.  They clustered together looking for a way in or out, depending on their appetite.  I guess the maggot metaphor is a person perception as the way I see the people in their non-committal lives.  The way they huddle together looking for some solace through their peers and friends.  I laugh at the simplistic ways these people choose to live their lives.  A total waste of oxygen and D.N.A.  A total slap in the face for the creator, even if I have stated many times my notion of a creator is a far cry from yours, it is still an meaningless existence.

So yes, I was a bit upset with the concert after Shot Baker played.  And, no, it is not because I am a Shot Baker fan.  Actually, my drinking probably made it hard for the band to even associate with me.  Tony and Nat were outside talking to fans, but I was being obnoxious and my usual Kalifornia Dave self.  I pushed the limits of their patience.  Am I not good at this?  Does this not push your own limits of sanity?  And if that is the truth, have you not seen yourself become greater because of my lack of regard for the cliff we all choose to stand on the edge of?

Anyway, it was a good night there, Jason and Mario; whom I have not seen in over 3 years; picked me up.  My cell phone had died while talking to Mario, and giving him directions.  Luckily, two nice young girls asked me for a cigarette right before that, so I was able to finagle a phone call from their cell phone to Jason.  Without that call, Jason and Mario would have headed to the 2nd concert without me.  Thankfully, they found their way, and I jumped into Jason's ride, not realizing he had more than Mario with him.  Mario yelled out the window; "Kenny"; as they drove past.  I ran over to find Mario asking me where he could piss.  It was a no-brainer, piss in the alley.  So, Jason, Mario, the girl (whose name I can't remember), and the black dude (whose name I can't remember) ran off to piss, while I was left with a running vehicle on Lincoln Ave.  They all came back, made some jokes about how hard-core the girl was for dropping her panties and pissing in between the dumpsters between the three guys.  I just laughed, the laugh that says I understand, but I wasn't there, I am sure you are familiar...

I was in backseat with the girl and the black dude.  Mario and Jason were up front.  The funny thing is Jason had Mario bring out The Whiskey Rebels CD, which happens to be one of my favorites.  The tunes rocked all the way to the second concert.  Of course we caught up in between, "how are you?", "What have you been doing?", "How's life treating you?"...You know, all the conversational stuff that people do when they haven't seen each other in years.  Of course, I immediately became an interest to the black dude and girl I was sharing the backseat with.  They asked a ton of questions. She told me how she was an artist, a starving artist if you will, that dealt in photography.  I laughed, and tried to be sympathetic.  She asked me about my perceptions of life, and I told her I like to get fucked up and figure it out tomorrow.  I was being vague, and the reason is, I didn't know her, or the other dude, good music was on the radio, and I wanted to hear what Mario and Jason had been up too.  Hell, I lived with those two fuckers for a few years on Pontiac.  And if you go back far enough in these blogs, you can see the chaos.  And that is the last time I wrote about them.  So it was important for me to see how things had changed, or not changed.

Well, this trip ended abruptly, I had to piss, and luckily we arrived at the next venue.  Mario yelled out the window at a crowd of people standing in front, and they yelled back, obviously these were his friends.  Well, these friends were mainly Skinheads.  Yes, Mario had been on the fringes of that mentality, but years have gone by since I seen him, and I see now how ingrained he is in this society.  It was never my scene, I was always a punk, never a Skin, but Mario, he always loved the music.  Such as Minor Threat, a great straight-edge band, but their notions of what society was supposed to be mirrors a bit of European Fascism, that was never my style.  So there I was standing on the forefront of a personal battle.  I was wearing my signature black, like Johnny Cash.  I had on my VooDoo Glow Skulls hoodie, my Shot Baker T-shirt, my black mechanics pants, and my black Chuck Taylor's.  I was the man in black, maybe not wearing it to Cash's satisfaction, but I felt comfortable with myself, thus if trouble was to happen, then so be it.

I told Jason to pull over after Mario's hanging out the car window yelling incident.  Jason, at first was like, "let me park" but knew what he would be asking if he pushed it further.  He pulled over, I jumped out the back seat, and ran for the alley.  I pissed, laughed, and thanked my God for allowing me to NOT piss in my pants.  Hell, I already told you I was drinking heavily through 3 bands at the first show.  So I came out of the alley, saw the four people that picked me up heading my way.  We all made it to the door at the same time.  Jason, Mario, the chick, the black dude all knew everyone hanging out front.  The first guy, comes up to me and asks me where I am from, and what I believe in.  Now I am familiar with American Skins, and I know he was implying this, so I immediately said, "I am not a Skin, I am who I am, and I am from where I came from..."  He looked at me crazy, then came in and hugged me.  He told me he had just gotten into town yesterday from L.A. and was happy to see someone not trying to act his way through the show.  I realized then, that I had agreed to come to a Skinhead show.  I just thought it would be hardcore, but as this guy gave me hug (which I didn't reciprocate) I looked around and saw the shaved heads of every guy, and the shaved backs and sides of every female head outside.  I was at Skinhead show, do you walk away at that point?  Not me!  I pushed through, without even flinching.  If they didn't like my knowledge then too bad.  Now, let me say, most of them were not the racist kind, these were honor Skins, based upon British working class Skins from the 80s and 90s.  There is a huge difference in the types of Skins that walk this Earth.  Now I could spend days researching it and trying to explain it, but most of the ones I met on Saturday were just working class, thinking they got a bad shake because of big business.

I went in, immediately went to the bar to ask what the specials were because I knew I was going to have to be shit-faced in order to deal with some of the people that were there.  Not to mention, I didn't know anything about the bands playing.  The place was packed.  Everyone gave me a dirty look as I went from one side of the bar to the other.  I even looked at some of the women dead in their eyes as they stared at me.  I played the Alpha dog role, not looking away until they did.  I was not going to back down, and I knew if I did, the women have a lot of control over their men in these environments.  One little phrase, such as, "That guy looked at me wrong" or "He just stepped on my foot" or "Why is that guy staring at me?" kind of comments to the wrong boyfriend, and I would be finding myself on Ashland and Lake St. in Chicago defending myself against another man's ego.  That is not really where I wanted to be, so I stared down a few chicks, knowing full well I was in control. 

I drank a few shots of Jameson (it was on special), and then hit the PBR for $3 12oz.  The bands were very good, actually I expected much less, but I was definitely surprised.  I actually put my phone, keys, wallet, and smokes in one of my secure pockets within my mechanics pants.  I jumped into that pit with full force.  I felt the energy of the bands, and I didn't hold back.  Throughout the course of the night I was able to talk with Jason and Mario one-on-one.  That was the real reason for coming out, I hadn't seen either one for years.  I lived with both of them for a couple years before that, these guys were family, and I was happy to see them still breathing.  We are all a bunch of lunatics, and it definitely was worth it.  Mike Galvin showed up after I was so drunk I couldn't stand up straight.  I said, "what's up" to him, and we talked for a few minutes, he is more of the racist Skinhead I was referring to earlier.  I don't respect that mentality, nor associate with it, but he is good friends with Jason and Mario, and we used to be friends before he realized I don't see the world as he does.  Anyway, I knew it was time for me to go.  I said goodbye to Mario, and I couldn't find Jason, so I just left.

I walked 5 miles back to my car.  It was smart since I need to sober up.  I walked down Ashland to Fullerton and up Fullerton to Orchard where I was parked.  I am saying this because I am ending this blog, and want to continue writing another day.  I passed an all black bar, I had my shirt off, and the only comments I got from people I passed was pertaining to my back tattoos.  They knew and could tell where life had taken me, at first moving towards them, they tried or thought I was weak, after passing them, I had respect.  IT was apparent, it is not some imaginative idea I thought of, but it truly was an energy.  I have learned that the strong only pick on the weak, and if a strong person picks on a strong person it is only a test to see if they are strong.  Once that is out in the open, there is no more testing.  It is an Alpha-Beta world, the question is, where do u stand in it?


All in all it was a great night, now I have to go smoke.

later,
Kenny