Rather belated tidbits from Lollapalooza ’08

It’s almost a week after the fact at this point, which is like a lifetime in Internet time, but I’m still keen to write a few words about where I was last weekend. I attended Lollapalooza, the utterly ginormous beast of a music festival that takes over Chicago once a year. You may have heard of it.

Up until this year I had never attended any sort of multi-day music festival. In less than a month’s time I’ve been to two of them. Back in July I went to the Pitchfork Music Festival for a day. Spoon was playing and I had missed them a few month’s back due to unprecedented demand and Ticketmaster fuckery. I had never particularly wanted to go to a music festival, but not for any specific reason. It just didn’t seem like a thing I needed to do.

Radiohead and the promise of other excellence was the clincher. Even before the lineup was officially announced it was pretty clear that Radiohead would be there. Thanks to my wife I’ve come around on them. I had joined the haters pretty adamantly after the release of Kid A. But, I can always change my mind.

Friday

My sister-in-law flew in to Chicago for the festival, but didn’t arrive until 2:00 AM the night before thanks to inclement weather somewhere. As such, the three of us — my wife, her sister, and myself — didn’t make it to Grant Park until around 1 o’clock. We caught the end of The Black Lips, a band I’d seen before in March, who were probably excellent. Then we wandered around a bit to get our bearings. Returning to the same stage we listened to The Go! Team. I probably would have been into their set had it been later in the day. As yet I wasn’t quite in the zone I needed to be for their set. I rather like what I’ve heard of their albums though.

After that, we made the long trek over to the opposite side of the park to get in place for Gogol Bordello. I heard a bit of The Kills, who seem to have some promise. Apparently the heat was too much for them and their set had to be cut short. It was brutally hot on Friday. The wife was pretty beat down at this point. I left her in the south field to replenish water and pick up much appreciated vegan cupcakes and cookies from Chicago’s Bleeding Heart Bakery.

Gogol Bordello rocked incredibly fucking hard. I’ve been a fan since discovering them through lead singer Eugene Hütz’s role in Everything is Illuminated but hadn’t really considered myself to be a true fan until this show. This was one of the best performances of the entire weekend. I’m going to do everything in my power to see them again should they come through town again.

It was a short jaunt over to see Mates of State, one of the wife’s favorite bands. She’s right, they really are the most adorable couple in indie rock. She gave them one of the vegan cookies I’d bought earlier during an autograph session. They’re vegan, or Kori is anyway. They even did one of the only PETA ads that make sense: the one in which people would rather go naked than wear fur as opposed to going naked rather than… wearing M&Ms?

After the Mates of State autograph we headed back to Radiohead’s stage where we plopped ourself in the dirt and waited rather than trying to catch CSS or Stephen Malkmus. Did I mention it was fucking hot? Because it really was. Radiohead, by the way, was pretty damned amazing. They had pretty lights too, which was great because we were parked about a half-mile away from the stage.

Saturday

Saturday didn’t have as much going on so we took the opportunity to stay at home, get some errands run, and buy a real meal. We didn’t make it to the park until Explosions in the Sky played. There was an inexplicably large crowd assembled for an instrumental band. Some kid behind me kept yelling “Whoo!” directly in my ear because he was a foot shorter than I am. Still an amazing show. One of the guys in the band is the spitting image of John Gruber.

Okkervil River came next. I last saw them open for The New Pornographers a few months back. Where I first saw them is much more interesting. I first saw Okkervil River back in 2001 or 2002 in a tiny restaurant-cum-bar in Huntington, WV that regularly featured open mic nights and bands in the larger dining area/smoking section. I made a poster for that show. Really nice guys.

Unlike everyone I know who attended Lollapalooza this year my wife and I chose Wilco over Rage Against the Machine. I don’t regret that decision in the slightest. Wilco played a great set including most of my favorites: “I am Trying to Break Your Heart,” “Monday,” and “Outtasite (Outta Mind)” among many others. They also had fabulous Grand Ole Opry style suits. With kittens and dolphins.

Sunday

Sunday was the longest day. Unlike the previous days we were there for the entire day. Which was great, because we got catch The Octopus Project bright and early. Fun fact: I also made a poster for the band while living in Huntington. I never saw them though. Some fuckwad in New York City stole their stuff and they had to cancel the tour. I had forgotten how they’re all just incredibly good looking people.

After that it was local favorite Kid Sister. I don’t have much to say, but I rather enjoyed her. The Weakerthans were a no-show, but nobody bother to tell anyone until they announced “Chicago’s own Office!” and great crowds of disappointed fans headed in the opposite direction. We slowly made our way back to the main stage for Brazilian Girls but the heat was taking its toll on me. I had to retreat to what shade I could find.

I really wanted to be excited for Iron & Wine, whom I love, but the relentless heat pushed me away. I managed to catch the entire set from the periphery. I decided it didn’t matter too much because I already know I’ll buy their albums. Besides I need my energy for Girl Talk.

Lord how I needed my energy. I hadn’t seen a show like this the entire festival, though Gogol Bordello came the closest. Girl Talk was the show I was most looking forward to all weekend. More than Radiohead, more than Wilco, more than Kanye West or Nine Inch Nails.

Girl Talk is one guy and a laptop computer. He’s one of those “mashup” artists you may have heard about. Unlike most of those other guys he doesn’t just put one song versus another one, but creates a seething, cacophonous quilt of sound that you can dance to. Just about anything could get thrown in there. If you haven’t heard it yet, do yourself a favor and check out Girl Talk’s most recent album Feed the Animals which is available as a “pay what you want” download. Maybe it’s not for you, but I can’t get enough. He’s coming back to Chicago on November 8th (pretty much as soon as he isn’t subject to C3’s exclusivity clause) and I cannot fucking wait.

After Girl Talk was over I was pretty much done. There were still two more headlining acts, plus a bunch of other good bands, but I hardly cared. We chose Mark Ronson and Kanye West as both were artists we liked, but would likely never pay to see separately. Mark Ronson was a lot of fun. The set wasn’t fantastic, but he had such energy and charm it was impossible not to love him. As for Kanye, I guess he did all right but I’m only really familiar with the big hits. About a half hour in the wife looked at me and said that her 16-year-old self wanted to see what Trent Reznor was up to on the other side of the park. That sounded just fine with me. We arrived in the middle of one of his new instrumental things, but the set picked up incredibly soon afterward. We heard “Head Like a Hole,” “Terrible Lie,” and “Hurt” and we let the old anger flare up again.

There were dogs on the train. Coming home from work, a bit later than usual, I boarded a Red Line train at Chicago and State expecting the typical assortment of boisterous drunks and sleepy late-shifters. They were aboard. Also, there were dogs.

Judging by the breed (German Shepherd), the owners (in matching blue uniforms), and the muzzle (present) these were working dogs in some line of security. They didn’t have the slightest look of malice. Indeed, the one nearest me had the nervous pant of an animal who is quite certain he had no need at all to be traveling in this noisy, shuddering vehicle. He, quite adorably, continually pestered his master with pleading smacks on the hand. When he made contact, and managed to maintain this stance it looked like nothing more than a scared child begging his mother to hold his hand. My dog does this when he wants his belly rubbed.

Also, much like my dog, this canine detective — I suspect these dogs were trained not for interception but detection but I could be wrong — showed signs of advanced age and pained joints. His face and ears had a slight grayness about the edges and his sitting posture was crooked. Instead of sitting with his butt flat and all four paws on the floor he tucked his left leg under his hip. I suspect he had a touch of hip dysplasia on that side. His handler was a pleasant looking and very large black man. He indulged his companion’s paw smacks and the general unease of the car’s passengers with a wry smile.

I gradually became aware of a growing tension in the front of the car. There was another German Shepherd and another security agent at the front door. A man of indeterminate descent — he may have been Indian, but I’m not certain — was getting angrier and louder as he stumbled towards the back of the car to engage the large black fellow in a largely one-sided conversation. It would be fair to call this a “rant.” I do not know the reasoning behind his rage, as his diatribe was delivered in a broken and heavily accented fashion. I caught the word “racist,” though I do not know if he were referring to the dog or the handler, as well as a few phrases about “not understanding” him though he claimed to speak more languages with fluency than anyone aboard. He also threatened to sue both of the dog owners as well as the CTA. Perhaps the dog or the woman holding the dog looked at him askance. Perhaps he was threatened by the very presence of the dogs. Very likely he had something to hide.

And then, we arrived at my transfer stop. I and the dogs exited. The angry man stayed aboard, muttering to himself as he found a seat. The dogs left. The train left and another Red Line train arrived moments afterward. There were no dogs aboard.

I’ve been working for a couple of weeks now — that worrisome self-loathing about not providing for my little family has mostly passed. I don’t particularly love the job, but I don’t particularly hate it either. It’s a bit below what I had been doing previously in terms of complexity, but it pays the bills (or will once I start getting full-sized paychecks). In short, it’s a Bedrock can-opener job: “Eh, it’s a living.”

What I’ve been struggling with most these past few weeks has been the time before and after work. My shift starts at 3:00 PM and ends at 11:30 PM. I take the L and have to transfer trains if I want to get the closest stop to work which can add a good 30 to 45 minutes if I’m unlucky (late at night, and particularly after midnight the Brown line runs quite infrequently).

My problems are these: I cannot go straight to bed upon arriving home, but I also cannot sleep well in the daylight. Back in my previous job I’d occasionally have to work the overnight shift (11:00 PM to 7:30 AM) when the shift was emptied due to illness. Even after staying awake for something like 26 hours I still couldn’t get a good sleep in while I could see daylight. I’m not the napping type. This means I need to get myself in bed before sunrise, but I still want to get my after work, or “leisure” time in by which I mean games, blogs, cross stitch, etc.

The fervor with which I agonize over my “leisure” activities renders the use of the quote marks essential. While at work I spend copious time considering the span of time after I have returned home but before I finally give up, kick the dog off of my side of the bed, and go to sleep. Should I continue to work on that Warlock so I can get him as close to finished as possible?¹ Should I watch my recent Netflix delivery (as quietly as possible, because the wife is sleeping already)? Finish the story I started reading on the train? Keep on playing that DS game? Read some blogs? Work on my own? By the time I actually do get home whatever I’ve decided has been worked over so aggressively in my head that it seems like crystallized un-fun, but if I don’t do it, I feel guilty in some small way.

Did I mention I get a bit anxious?

I don’t think I’m terribly high strung about it, and I’m getting better. It’s not the first time I’ve worked this shift, and the feeling that the world is looking down on me for not being fully dressed before noon with regularity is passing.

And that’s it. I don’t have an ending to that little screed.

¹ In case you are considering that I have abandoned my Dragon Warrior project, fear not! I have not. I have a small backlog of creature to post yet. I’m trying to post them in order of appearance in game. My current stumbling block is the stocking of my local craft stores. I need a few colors to complete the next batch, but every time I pop in, that store just so happens to be out of stock in the very color I require.

Coming home from the L stop tonight I made a short detour for the nearest 24-hour Jewel store. The wife, you see, had no more orange juice and this task being well within my capacities I took it upon myself to fetch some. The snow had been coming down with some regularity for the better part of the evening. Several inches of powdery stuff had settled across the city. This trek was not nearly as effortless as I had imagined.

The snow gave testament that I was plodding through ground where no man nor beast had been foolhardy enough to tread for several hours. Taking exaggerated moon steps I slowly made my way across the drifts. My shoes — ill-fitted to this kind of weather — allowed my socks to become soaked. I gratefully acknowledged that it could be worse: it was much warmer than it had been the previous two nights.

Rarely one to back down from a challenge such as this I eventually made it to my destination, picked up two cans of frozen orange juice concentrate, the smallest box of cereal I could find that looked tasty, and a beer because by this point I felt I’d earned it. At this hour only one teller manned the registers: his own and the nearby self-service kiosk. Knowing I’d be carded for the beer I chose the former. It needn’t have mattered either way because the numbskulls who chose the self-service kiosk seem to have never attempted to master such a device and struggled to manage even the simplest of tasks. Unfortunately, they also brought produce.

The teller was preternaturally cheerful about the whole endeavor. I don’t know from whence he derived his good nature, but it was pretty goddamned heartwarming. When I asked him how he was doing this night he answered with gusto that he was doing “Great!” and seemed generally touched that I inquired. Truly he’s some sort of all-night grocery store saint.

Chicago, this bustling metropolis, is eerily deserted after midnight under a layer of snowfall. On certain blocks I felt as if I had the whole city to myself, having not seen a single soul in some time. Sliding across the snowdrifts in my damp shoes I could imagine, albeit briefly, being the sole survivor of a terrible holocaust. It could be quite peaceful being the last man on earth.

Gee, I hope that orange juice thaws before Staci wakes up.

Once again I’ve fallen into a bit of a torpor. My attention to the vast world of the Internets has dimmed. Every few days I start up NewsFire only to be overwhelmed by the sheer mass of new posts I’ve ignored. Typically I just mark all of them as read and close it again. I just can’t bring myself to be interested lately.

I’m going to give it another go, and try first to start with this little blog of mine. While I’d never expect to have something to post every day, I’d really hate to abandon it.

So, catch up time: Since last we spoke I did manage to secure employment. It’s a second shift position — less than ideal, but better than nothing. I start in a little over a week. I’ve gone and completed my physical evaluation, gotten another vaccination, and picked up an ID badge. I’m hoping a job brings some kind of sense of purpose.

I haven’t let the past few weeks go completely to waste. I have a few new projects to post as soon as I’ve mounted and photographed them. One of these is a particularly impressive bit of cross stitchery that has been about a year in the making (more on this later).

Most of my time, however, has been spent on Dragon Quest VIII and Super Mario Galaxy. The former I picked up some time last year without devoting much time and the latter was a Christmas gift. Both are excellent.

It hasn’t been all video games and cross stitch. My other, other out-of-work obsession has been vegan cupcakes. Here’s my latest, and prettiest batch: Chocolate Mint Cupcakes:

I have moved to Illinois. Despite having little to nothing to do with my time — a job has yet to be offered to me — this is the first I’ve touched this site since before I left Virginia. A kind of a torpor has settled over me that has nothing to do with the weather, though we’re covered in a layer of very hibernation-worthy snow at the moment. My time has been frittered away with trips to the grocery store and bouts of Chibi-Robo and Puzzle Quest. I think, perhaps, I wanted some sense of accomplishment to offset my lack of success in the job hunt.

Or maybe I’m just lazy?

So, Chicago’s pretty all right so far. My exploration has thus far been focused on the areas of the city I can reach by foot, so that’s basically a two mile radius of our apartment. I’m thrilled to be able to take care of almost everything I might need without getting into my car.

I think I’m going to like it here.

It is currently Thursday, November 1, 2007. One week from today I will have quit my job. A few days after that I will have moved to Chicago, IL.

I’m a little nervous about this.

The move itself, while stressful, is nothing I cannot handle. I’ve moved a total of seven times in the past ten years. Three of those moves have been across states. The packing and the loading and the unloading and the unpacking are obstacles fairly easily overcome. One would think, incorrectly, that I might have learned a lesson about accumulating so much stuff.

The lack of employment, and subsequent financial crisis that it entails, have a much more worrisome effect on my state of mind. Sure, I’ll find work in due time but lord-a-mercy does it agonize. The wife has a job that more closely resembles her dream job. I have a sour twist in my stomach.

Ahh, but the destination! That’s the key. Years of listening to This American Life have definitely keyed me in to Chicago as a place to be. Yes, I have heard that it gets cold up there.

We load the truck on November 9th. Boxes in varying state of fullness litter our tiny house. It’s hard to see if we’re anywhere close to ready to pack it all up.

At least I don’t feel as if I were ready to throw up quite so often. That’s progress, right?