Whisper This

If you're familiar with the Denver metro area, then you are also likely to have heard of Aurora.

Aurora is the east side suburb of Denver and, to be honest, the butt of every location joke told by Denver urbanites. It's not a particularly nice place. Most of us try to avoid going there. Some of us attempt to pretend it doesn't exist.

So, when the electro-industrial-synthpop band, Synapse, announced they'd be playing a show at Whispers in Aurora, there were a whole lot of us who were thinking wait...what? Aurora?! Are you kidding? No. They were not, in fact, kidding.

And had this been any old band, I would not have even thought of going out there. But Synapse isn't just any band. This is the project of Peej's own Mr. S, Aggro Ginger, and Hippie Ginger - all friends of mine - and I happen to think they are excellent beyond a local level. So I always want to show my support for them whenever they have an opportunity to play live.

Now, I wasn't familiar with the venue itself but, from what I could gather from Yelp, this isn't quite the place you'd expect to see this type of band. Decidedly small, it's a neighborhood dive bar inhabited mostly by people who come for the karaoke and (allegedly) the piano bar. As you can imagine then, the clientele is typically older, working class, middle Americans looking for a relatively quiet place to nurse a cocktail.

More than one quip was made about how Whispers wasn't going to know what hit them when the Goth Invasion took place.

When Acr0nym and I arrived at about 9:30, the place was already packed, parking lot full (I'll give that to Aurora...there's always somewhere to park), and the pre-show playlist blaring. It was clear that Peej had been there awhile because she'd already made fast friends with a table full of regulars - all obviously in their mid- to late 60's. Possibly 70's. As I looked around, I noticed we hadn't completely run several of the regulars off. Two older gentlemen sat at the end of the bar practically giddy at the sight of so many young, fresh-faced, beautiful girls in corsets. I spoke to them quite a bit throughout the night.

The bartender, Anthony, was harried. Peej had warned him early, "Look. You're going to be slammed. We drink. A lot. But we're nice and we tip well. Still...you're going to be busy." They'd already had to re-stock beer and mixers...twice...by 10. Clearly, they were unprepared for us.

Before Synapse even took the stage, the bar owner pulled Mr. S and Aggro Ginger aside and asked when he could have them back. Turns out, this was the biggest crowd he'd ever had. The owner of a neighboring bar walked down from his establishment when he noticed the unusual traffic and asked them for booking information.

Most everyone was all smiles.

We kept expecting the regulars to make hasty exits once the band started to play. The table of Peej's older folk friends assured her, in fact, that the pre-show music was too loud for their liking and they'd be leaving in short order...

But they didn't. And when Synapse got up and began to play, something unexpected happened.

One of the women - age 66 by her own admission and, by all appearances, a typical grandmotherly type - got up and began to dance along with the goth crowd. Several of us cheered and clapped. She even began to pull people up out of their seats to join her. She was LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT!

My two new gentlemen friends at the end of the bar were smiling and clapping and having a grand time. Most all of the regulars stayed to the bitter end. They didn't complain (at least, not that I heard) and they took the invasion in stride, buying drinks for some of us, commenting on how friendly we were...not scary at all.

Two stereotypes were broken last night. The people we descended upon learned that while we may look freaky and listen to loud music, we're actually quite friendly, polite, and pacifists. We don't want to fight. We just want to drink and lose ourselves in the music.

Meanwhile, we learned that whatever we might say about Aurora and its residents, the residents of Whispers can hang. They also taught us a little something about capturing and experiencing youth wherever you might find it.

I can't wait for Synapse to play them again.

Cheers.

Restoration of Faith

I feel as though I've been complaining a lot about humanity - or the lack thereof - here lately.

For those of you who only know me through my blog, I'd like to extend an apology to you. Because, if you were to know me in person, you'd know I am kinda sparkly...like glitter.

The fact is I love nearly everyone...despite some people's attempts to convince me to do otherwise. I suppose I just have a strong sense of what I believe justice and compassion are and am often disappointed by people...I sometimes even disappoint myself.

Love the person, Jane. Not the potential. *zen arrow finds its mark*

Clearly, my expectations are set way too high. And what do I say about expectations? They are pre-determined resentments. I know better.

And yet...

There are times when my greatest expectations of people - people I don't even know - go so far above and beyond anything I can imagine, I weep for joy and gratitude.

This morning, I find myself weeping over this article from The Denver Post:

Music-lover Jeff Quinlan leaves millions to Swallow Hill

For those of you who don't know, Swallow Hill is a non-profit organization in Denver "dedicated to preserving and fostering folk and traditional music from around the world".

I took singing lessons there last fall/winter. It's currently housed in this funky old, dilapidated building - another Grotto really - with twisty corridors and uneven floors. And it's one of the awesomest places in Denver for that reason. It's what you might expect from an organization dedicated to folklore and folk music.

I am so happy for them! This gift - a multi-million dollar legacy - will ensure the continuation of music education in this region and will benefit thousands of people in my community.

And, while I'm sorry for the death of Jeff Quinlan, I am also grateful to him for his generosity, his passion for music, and for his dedication to his community.

And I'm grateful to him this morning for restoring my faith in humankind to its normal levels.

Bathed in tears, I sparkle. Like glitter.


A year ago: You Can Fool Some People Some of the Time

Random and Memorable Moment

On my first full day in Seattle, Jenni took me down to Pike Place so that I could absorb the ultimate in Seattle tourist offerings. It was good.

After walking for what felt like miles, we got back to the car and I opted to stay at it while Jenni went to fetch the rolled hanks of luxury yarn we'd purchased earlier in the day.

While I was there, a man of the street approached me, and since I wasn't engaged in anything particularly noteworthy, he and I struck up a conversation. He asked me for change for a dollar and while I was digging out 4 shiny quarters from the depths of my little handbag (there were definite depths), we talked about gum, gum ball machines, and laughed about nieces and nephews and his 8 grandchildren.

It was a nice visit.

He didn't stick around very long before he turned and meandered up the street talking to himself. I went back to leaning on the car and losing myself in thoughts.

Pretty soon though, he came back in my direction still muttering to himself. As he passed me by once more, he said to me,

"You. You are VERY special to someone."

And then continued to walk away until I couldn't see him anymore.

And I started to cry.

Wow! Really?!

Yes, REALLY.

The question:

Random Stranger: "So have you ever been married?"
Me: "Nope. Never."
RS: "Wow! Really?!"

And that's when I see it...the brain cogs slowing grinding into motion as RS considers this and comes up with 2 conclusions...

A) There is something wrong with me.
B) I'm a lesbian.

First of all, I am not a lesbian. While I do have certain celebrity crushes I will post about later, I'm mostly into men.

Secondly, there is not much wrong with me that isn't "wrong" with everyone else. I'm 37. I have some bags (a couple I carry under my eyes after a long night). I also seem to think fairly often that it is, in fact, all about me¹.

What I don't have is a second head growing out of my stomach...especially not one who is the leader of the mutant revolution².

I have never been in prison (I've been to a prison but never required to be there...there is a distinction).

I don't spit when I talk (mostly).

I'm not addicted to drugs.


No, I suppose what I really am is particular.

You see, I was proposed to once. By someone I even thought I was in love with for a bazillion years (OK 7 years). The problem was that I think I was mostly in love with getting him to love me and it took me 7 years for him to A) love me and/or B) admit it. But once he'd done that, I came to the realization that, while we loved each other, he also wasn't ever steadily employed ³, never wanted to leave Southern California, had the foulest mouth, not to mention having the craziest mother of all time.

I ended our relationship 6 months later. I was 28. And all of a sudden out of the prime marriage window.

Now I'm just...settled in spinsterhood I suppose. I have had boyfriends (and one girlfriend) since then. I've even lived with one or two. None of which actually "worked out" to the marriage point and I'm OK with that. I lead an ultra-hip, urban, glamorous life⁴ with lots of friends, lots of wine, and lots of fabulous...er...knitting.

Shush.

But there's nothing actually WRONG with me. I'm serially single...and loving it.


1: I read something once...that everyone is 80% focused on ourselves 100% of the time. What counts is what we do with the other 20%.

2: As in Kuato from Total Recall.

3: Unless drinking beer and brainstorming ways to get money to buy more beer counts as employment.

4: In my head.