Smoking a Joint With My Pal Willie Nelson

I could ramble on and on about how lucky I am to have seen some of my favorite musical artists live in concert.  And that's exactly what I'm going to do here today.

The first real concert I ever went to was freshman year of High School at whatever used to be Mazottis on the Plaza downtown Arcata.  It was Dick Dale, the King of Surf Guitar. And it rocked. I remembered at the time I was failing math, and we'd just gotten our mid-term report card, which was a nice assortment of D's and F's.  The teacher, an uberbitch by the name of Ms Walsh, told us we'd get extra credit if our parents signed off our report cards.  So that night I had Dick Dale sign my F report card.  Dammit I wish I still had that report card...

And it was a great concert. I don't think I'd ever heard music that loud before. I remembered loving the way the floor resonated the heavy bass, and the reverb was cranked up so loud that it was piercing my skull, but the riffs were so badass; I loved it!

For my 17th birthday (maybe 16th), I went with my friend Devon down to San Francisco to see Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros at the Fillmore. This concert I will never forget.  From the opening number "Cool'n'Out" to his closing encore of the Ramones' classic "Blitzkrieg Bop", I was in a state of ecstasy. Hearing classic Clash tunes like "Rudie Can't Fail", "Police and Thieves", "Bankrobber", "White Man in Hammersmith Palais", and even "Rock the Casbah" from the man who originally wrote and sung them was amazing. Such good showmanship, and an amazingly talented backing band. After the show he even hung out outside to chum it up with his fans. What an amazing person. Just a few months later he died of a heart attack, so it is with bittersweet content that I was able to see him perform live before he passed on. RIP Joe, you've always been an inspiration to me, and no single figure in music has ever influenced me as much as you.

For my 18th birthday my sister and I met up again in the Bay Area, this time in Mountain View for the "Area2" concert, featuring David Bowie and Moby (not to mention Blue Man Group and Busta Rhymes; what an eclectic lineup!). I like Moby, and I've always respected his music, even if he is a douchebag. Suffice it to say, David Bowie was the real reason I went. Moby was just a bonus.

Bowie, opening his set with his classic "Ashes to Ashes", was amazing in concert, all through "Ziggy Stardust" as the closing number.  Assorted somewhere in between we had "Let's Dance", "Changes", "I'm Afriad of Americans", "The Man Who Sold The World", and more if I could only remember them.  My only real problem with the show was it was in the Shoreline Amphitheater which is about as impersonal as seeing a show at Shea Stadium or Madison Square Garden.  And unfortunately I didn't learn my lesson that time, as a few years later I saw another stadium show. More on that soon...

Then there was a trip up to Portland (pre-relocation) to see The Reverend Horton Heat at the Roseland with my buddy Jay.  This show was a little hazy... I remember the Rev doing classics like "Psychobilly Freakout", "Bales of Cocaine", "Big Red Rocket of Love", and "It's Martini Time", but I also remember feeling a little bit disappointed by his live show.  That's not to say I won't see him when he comes to HSU next February - quite the contrary, expect to see me there! It was just a little less energetic than you might expect after listening to his frantic, maniacal rockabilly for so many years. It was still an awesome show - The Reverend is an amazing guitarist and has great stage presence.  It was worth the price of admission just to see his flaming Gretch and awesome three-piece red suit.

While on the subject of the Roseland, there were many other bands I saw perform there. Ironically, most of them I saw when I was visiting Portland. I think I only saw one show in the two-plus years I lived there. The first was The Hives, which I shouldn't even have to explain as being an amazingly fun and energetic live show. Quite possibly the most *fun* I ever had at a show.  Any band that performs kick-ass rock while stage diving and sissor-kicking has gotta get good props in my book.  It was also quite possibly the "highest" I've ever felt after seeing a live performance.

Then there was Belle and Sebastian, also at the Roseland, maybe two years later (?).  And I have to say I enjoyed that concert more than any other.  Such a fantastic musical ensemble, and great charisma on stage.  In fact, my only gripe about the show was the people in the audience.  I remember thinking it was almost like a joke... "I haven't seen this many hipsters outside of a Belle and Sebastian concert... oh wait." But it was a terrific setlist, playing almost half of the songs off their first (and best) two albums, "Tigermilk" and "If You're Feeling Sinister".

Also worth a quick note was The Eagles of Death Metal at the Roseland.  While they were just the opening act for Joan Jett, all we really cared about seeing were the Eagles.  I remember Throw Rag was opening too, but we missed them.  I'd seen Throw Rag open for Flogging Molly at HSU a few years back, and they completely stole the show from Flogging Molly.  The only time the opening band ended up upstaging the headliner.  Throw Rag, for the record, is also opening for The Reverend Horton Heat playing at HSU early next year. Cha-ching!!

A few years back for my 20th (I think) birthday, I flew out to Chicago to spend a couple weeks with my old friend Max. Megadeth was playing Gigantour with Dream Theater and Anthrax, so obviously I made sure my vacation coincided with the tour dates.  Needless to say, Megadeth kicked some serious fucking ass!  Pyrotechnics up the wazoo and guitar solos once every five seconds, it was awesome!  Quite the polar opposite of seeing Belle and Sebastian in a small venue.  It was right after they'd released "The System Has Failed", which was hailed as Dave Mustaine and Megadeth's comeback album, so they opened the set with "Blackmail the Universe".  From that all the way through to the third encore of "Peace Sells" I was in metal heaven.

But let us not forget about the lesson I thought I'd learned after seeing David Bowie - stadium shows aren't nearly as fun!  If I could only see Megadeth at a nice small venue, like the Roseland, it would be the perfect gig.... So last September, while still living in Portland, being the trendy fuck that I am, drinking my frappachino, smoking a cigarette and reading the Wilamette Weekly, low and behold what do I see - "MEGADETH - LIVE AT THE ROSELAND - SEPTEMBER 10TH". Oh...my...God!!!

Going to the gig might've ultimately gotten me fired (for the first time) from Uhaul (no-call no-show from being drunk, hungover, and so sore I could barely move the next day), but I didn't matter. For those 17 or 18 songs that Megadeth played, by God nothing else mattered (Metallica reference fully intended).  From "Sleepwalker" to "Take No Prisoners" to "In My Darkest Hour" to "Hanger 18" to "Tornado of Souls" to "Wake Up Dead" to "Holy Wars"... oh my Lordy-Lord live music simply doesn't get more aggressive, dangerous and fun.  Punk-rock moshpits are like a toddler in daycare compared to the ultra-aggression of the pit at a Megadeth show.  Within ten seconds of the opening number I knew I had to take my glasses off, cuz they were already starting to fly.  At one point, during "Washington is Next" I believe, I turned to the guy next to me, who was holding his face in his hand, blood pouring out of his nose, kneeling down.  Because mosh pits are rarely about pure violence, they're about letting aggression out.  Whenever somebody falls over, a host of people go to pick him back up.  I made eye contact with the bleeding guy, and we both just started laughing and ramming into eachother.  It was a thing of beauty.  What a show!

And so here I sit, on the clock at work as always, reminiscing about all these past shows because tomorrow I am going to my first concert since that wonderful night last September.  Though again speaking of polar opposites, this one is about as far removed from the thrash of Megadeth as possible - we are speaking about the Willie Nelson show down in Piercy.  My father's band, The Delta Nationals, scored the spot for the opening act, which got me not only free tickets but a backstage pass.  I have infinite respect for Willie, as he is one of the few old-timer country boys that I really enjoy (along with The Man in Black, of course, and Hank Williams Sr.)

But more than anything else, I just want to meet him.  And smoke a joint with him.  And maybe update my MySpace profile with a picture of me and Willie.  And shake his hand, and bullshit with him for just a minute or two.  Maybe strum a chord or two on his acoustic guitar. Ask him if his Ben & Jerry's ice-cream flavor really is made of hashish and shredded tax returns.

Most importantly, I look forward to adding his name to my ever-growing eclectic list, which some day soon I hope includes the likes of Iggy Pop, The Ventures, and Bob Dylan.

Benjamin.

All Play and No Work Makes Benjamin a Fatass

Before I moved back to my hometown of Arcata from Portland, I knew that without much effort I could get a job at my local gas station/UHaul dealer (read previous post for more info on that monstrosity). I've been coming here since I was a little kid, and had actually been offered a job BEFORE I'd moved to Portland.  I'd always thought the gas station gig would be my dream dead-end job, as I called it.  The reason I didn't take it the first time around was the owner, my boss, had been selling my underage self beer and alcohol for over two years.  If I were to become employed, well I'm sure he would've figured it out in no time.

Fast forward about one year.  My first visit back to Arcata, I was already feeling homesick and seriously considering moving back.  So my first trip into the gas station here, I mucked it up with the owner, telling him how I ran a Uhaul center up in Portland, and that if I ever moved back he should give me a job.  He told me if I came back, come and talk to him and he'd find something for me.

Count it! Step one was already completed: I had a job lined up if I ever decided to move back. Obviously I also had a house to stay in (the parents) as well. When I finally decided to come back, I went and talked to the owner and got a job on the spot. It was beautiful, especially in a place like Arcata where the demand for jobs far outweighs the supply.

I knew what I was getting myself into in the first place. I knew it was a dead-end, minimum wage job, but that was what I wanted. I wanted a job that gave me the least amount of responsibility possible. As long as I was punctual and didn't call in sick too much, how could I possibly lose this job? I literally stand behind a counter for either six or eight hours a day, chumming it up with customers (which I am amazingly good at, read my Goebbels-inspired propaganda). I even bring in my laptop to surf the internet, and my guitar to work on new tunes I'm figuring out or writing. 

For the record, I am actually writing this very entry here at work, and I'm getting paid for every second of it. excersize

The problem is, now over two months into this job, I'm starting to miss the days of actually ACCOMPLISHING something when I'm at so-called "work". Not to mention myself being short on will power and being surrounded by soda, chips, candy, RedBulls, even the delicious Que Grande taco truck across the street, I can feel the pounds adding up. 

Not that I give two shits about how much I weigh, how I look or how unhealthy I am (average pack of cigarettes smoked in a shift: 1.2). I still feel almost guilty about it sometimes. Sleeping for 12 hours a day, "working" at a "job" where I eat candy and drink soda all day, and all the exercise I get is walking the block-and-a-half from home to work and back at night.

However, I cannot complain. For this is exactly what I wanted in a dead-end job. I don't like hard work, and I like soda! And I LOVE taking seventy-eight cigarette breaks a night. Not to mention the abundance of marijuana I am "tipped" every day. I actually weighed it all out a couple nights ago, and I have been "tipped" almost two full ounces. Mama-mia!

Those damn Salmon House kids and their fucking Brass Monkeys.

U-Haul, Your Moving Adventure

I've worked for U-Haul longer than any other employer in my life. Starting at a Center up in Portland, within a year I was runing the place and knew the many facets to the Company. One of the deciding factors in my move back to Arcata was the simplicity in getting a job. So now I work for the Gas 4 Less / Arcata Uhaul dealer.

U-Haul has been around for over 60 years. Starting out of his father-in-law's garage, L.S. Shoen built the first fleet of Uhaul trailers and franchised them out to local gas stations for in-town rentals. Slowly he built his empire, sending customers one-way to their destination with a free trailer in exchange for attempting to set up new dealers out-of-state. Within a few years he had indepedant dealers from Portland, Oregon all the way to Portland, Maine.

L.S. Shoen also had a complicated family life, including getting married six different times (twice to the same woman) and having a total of 13 children. UHaul was his legacy to give to his children, intrusting them all with certain percentages of the Company. In the end he left himself less than 3% control when his two middle-aged sons, Mark and Edward "Joe", manipulated the rest of the family in turning control over to them.

When Mark and Joe took over, their first order of business was to strip their father of all retirement and health benefits. They then split the shares in such a way as to cut off the rest of their siblings from voting control. After hiring their college frat buddies, Joe named himself CEO and Chairman of the Board, while Mark retained Vice-President status.

L.S. reunited the rest of his children in attempt to wrestle control of his company back from his sons. When that failed, they attempted litigation. After years in court, the Judge finally decreed that Joe Shoen had acted with malice and awarded the rest of the family over $1 billion in damages to be paid by Uhaul, Mark and Joe, and the Uhaul holding company of Amerco. This caused the Amerco bankruptcy in the late 90s, although Uhaul did come out intact.

A simple blog entry cannot do justice to the amazing story of greed, intimidation, and murder of Mark and especially Joe Shoen on their way into power. And yes, I did throw murder in there, but a transient was convicted of the crimes. As much as I hate my "boss" Joe Shoen, I have to give him credit for a few things, most notably to be a good businessman you have to be cut-throat and unflinching.

A couple times he was planning to come and visit the centers I had been working at, but after finding out so much dirt about our CEO I specifically reqeusted the days off. I'd just read an unflattering portrait of my boss, one of the richest and most corrupt businessman in modern times, and now I'm supposed to suck up to him and kiss his ass? No, I don't think so. If anything, I was going to ask him if he really was going to kill "the Bitch" stepmom that one night he waited in the shadows of her bedroom with a handgun. Or maybe about the time that him and Harry deShong blackmailed a former co-worker at gunpoint in front of his family.

Not to say you shouldn't use Uhaul, after all they are the cheapest and most convenient of all the DIY-movers. Many people have bad experiences with them, most regarding falty equipment, poor customer service, or unhonored reservations. These I won't defend.

I really shouldn't've started this blog about Uhaul, cuz theres so much more to write but laziness on my part means I won't ever finish it. So, oh well...

My Propaganda Would Impress Doctor Goebbels

One of my favorite television shows growing up had to be Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. It was one of the first shows I watched that featuring long-running story arcs and ensemble cast of characters. The power in the show, however, had to be the consistently top-notch writing and characterization of these 30+ characters. The apex of those characters, in my humble opinion, must be one Elim Garak.

A Cardassian born into the power family of Enabrin Tain, Garak quickly worked up the ranks of Cardassia's intelligence agency - The Obsidian Order.  At a young age he learned the power of the lie and, more importantly, the power of the truth that no one knows. In one of his lunch dates with Doctor Bashir (which were always an arena of lies and deception), when asked why he consistently lies, Garak responds, "Well, the truth is usually just an excuse for lack of imagination."

Over the years I have taken that quote and made it my own. While not trying to emulate my fictional friend Garak, I do see the methods to his madness. Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, but a lie is always more entertaining. At least for directionless automatons such as myself. When presented with even the most simplistic of questions, for example, "what did you do today?", a lie is always infinitely more interesting than the truth.

I have a shit job at a gas station, where I sell cigarettes, beer and gas to the hippies and drunks of Arcata. I've gotten to know the customers somewhat well over the last few months, and with my amazing ability to get along with just about everyone on the planet my customers are no different.

I have seeded myself out in bits and pieces to all my customers wth whom I regularly shoot the shit.  Each one has heard a different story about me. Some I've told the truth to, but most of them I lie to make them feel more comfortable and make me seem like one of their brethren. If you step into my store with jeans, a denim jacket, and a "Member of the Savage Nation" hat I'm going to tell you about my time living in Coos Bay, Oregon, where I worked as a mechanic at a service station. If you're one of the hippies, well, I was born and raised here, and I only got this gas station job because my trimming job fell through. And if you're a hipster, well, I'll probably tell you the truth, except that I love Bright Eyes and Saves The Day.

Today has been the most "real" day with the customers because for the first time I wore my Megadeth - Rust In Peace t-shirt (of which I'm sure I'll write a blog entry on at some point), and to my surprise a good quarter of the customers have started some thrash-related discussion with me, whether it be about the time one of them ran into Marty Friedman in the mall, or how insane the guitar work on Hanger 18 is.

Because genuine enthusiasm is so hard to differentiate from my white lies or even my full blown delusions, nobody REALLY knows me. I'm not saying that in your typical angst-ridden "nobody understands me!" sort of way, I'm saying that because everyone who thinks they know me just knows what I want them to think they know about me. Understand? I don't really care if you do or don't, because anyone reading this probably already knows the REAL me, at least the parts I want them to know about.

So why such a complex web of lies? Well, it's like Garak said, "Lying is like any other skill, and if you want to maintain it at a level of excellence you must practice." It's so maybe when somebody I do care about asks me what I've been doing, I will have a better answer than just, "eh, same old shit." Because, after all, it's always going to be the same old shit.

The Devirginization of an Internet Blogger

They told me everyone was doing it. They told me if I wanted to be "cool" I had to participate. They told me it was fun and painless. They were wrong.

So now, here I am, stuck here, writing futile blogs that nobody is ever going to read. This could be my last entry, or it could be the first of hundreds. Who knows. I'll probably blog about everything from random thoughts to music to daily events to political issues to historical biographies to downright lies. It will be your job to sort through the entries and find the truth. 

Later today I might write a full entry, but it could take a while. After all, the six hours that I will be at work has to be passed somehow, right?

Benjamin