Tales of the American Jet-set

So here I am in the Motorcity once again, as I seem to pass through every couple months or so. Most of the city and surrounding area is pretty much a dump, but is a welcome change from the hoity-toity surburbs that leave me hungry when looking to satisfy late-night cravings. Looking in the paper I see that the 70's Brit-punk band, Stiff Little Fingers, was playing at St Andrew's Hall in the Greektown area of town. I decided to make it my destination that night as I missed them at home a few weeks ago. I got to the show relatively early but still found I had missed the first two bands which didn't really bother me. The place was only about 1/3 full. Immediately as I entered the hall, I recognized a couple, sort of. Curious, I approached them and asked if they were from San Francisco. No, the woman replied. Then I asked if they were in Vegas for the Rockabilly music festival in April. Yes, they were. They introduced themselves as Brian and Michelle. Michelle has red hair and a unique look, so I was sure I had seen them before. We wound up hanging out during the show, then I got their email and phone number afterwards to let them know the next time I was in town. The show was over by 11:30 but it took an hour to drive the 20 miles or so to the airport since there was major construction closing off lanes. Still better than a dead dog! (Inside joke with myself.)

So some say Seattle seems so sexy. I imagine it isn't icky, but bumbling blindly by boring bars, everything exists emotionlessly empty, eventually ending.

So alliteration has been the highlight of my night here, but I think I captured my feelings pretty well. It's my fourth time here and I must say, I've had some very boring moments in this town, a town that seems teeming with people of similar mindsets as myself, but alas I have been unable to find them. The weather doesn't help. I don't know anything more miserable than being rained on over and over, or the constant threat of it. Perhaps this is the reason that there has been a reasonable prosperity of music and computer programming in this area. When people are confined indoors, they do what they have to do to ward off lonliness, boredom and depression, hence Microsoft and grunge music.

I had dinner and drinks at an Irish pub named Fado. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the place is a chain with a dozen locations throughout the US. Everything was fine except the waiter. He nearly pretended like I didn't exist. Oh well, perhaps next time I'll spit come-ons at girls and throw me mates onto the floor.

I think I'll avoid this town in the future unless invited by a resident host who can show me the good stuff.

I happened upon the Washington town an hour south of Seattle that is apparently an Indie-rockers mecca. The record companies, Kill Rock Stars, and K Records, both are based here as well as a fleet of bands, such as Bikini Kill, Sleater-Kinney, Beat Happening, etc. I swung by the Kill Rock Stars mailing address, hoping for an office with a foyer complete with vegan deli trays and girls wearing tight t-shirts and plastic-framed glasses working the phones, but alas it was merely a Mailbox Etc place.

The small downtown microcosm reverberated that of Portland or Berkeley. There is a large conglomeration of bars, but due to it being a Monday work night, and coupled with the desire to get some personal work done, I opted for Hot Pockets and Heineken in my room. Such is the glamour of the life I lead. Perhaps the nightlfe of Seattle will prove more promising.