I got home the other day…. kind of.

Blasted out of Long Beach at an early two pm and headed east. It took until the last couple days of the trip to realize that I could set the tripod up on the front passenger seat and get footage of the highway and scenery. Some neat footage was captured but I missed L.A. with its interwoven multiple clover leafs and double and triple layer highway systems. We’ll see how it all turns out in the final edit.

I pulled into Las Vegas and parked a block from the all naked cabaret club called Pussycat’s and checked on the open mic that was to happen at The Bikini Bar. “Yes,” the bikini clad bartender told me, “there is an open mic tonight. You gonna hang out or come back?” I decided to come back.

In the city of sin, sinning is still encouraged. For the ten people in the bar I am pretty sure there were twelve cigarettes burning. Smoking is still permitted indoors and it felt as if everyone there was aware that a large percentage of the country doesn’t allow that anymore. “Smokin’” Joe set up the mics and cables, stools and ashtray table on the stage and played a couple tunes. Then it was my turn. I figured since this was the last one I would go all out and sang four songs! I hit them with my new intro, “I’m a farmer from western Colorado and I’ve got some a cappella farmer music for you” then “we’ve WON!”, I followed that with “Ask Them to Leave” and went straight into “Grey Haze” just as the smoke machine punched out a huge billow over the flashing lights behind me. I left them with “Stand”, sat back down and listened to Wayne sing a couple Neil Young songs before I headed out the door and continued north and east.

Looking at the map I missed the fact that I would cut the corner off Arizona on my way to Utah. It’s amazing how much extra work thirty miles is when you were expecting to stop. I safely pulled into a rest area so full of trucks that I had to reverse back through the parking lot to take one of the only accessible car parking slips before snuggling into the cramped sleeping quarters of the back of the car.

The next morning I made some homemade instant refried beans and rice to go in a tortilla with cheese and California (also bought in California) greens. It was not long after the intersection with I-70 that I picked up K hitchhiking with his dog Karma and we drove together all the way home. They stayed the night in the cold room, then, first thing my first morning home we all packed into the car and headed to Montrose to rally in front of the BLM office to ask them not to lease away clean air and water to the natural gas companies. K continued hitching south and we were off to soak in the natural hot springs of Ouray for the night… now here I am, finally home. Tomorrow, back to work at the restaurant.

L.A. What a town. Massive, sprawling, littered with highways and roads. Sister S and I took a walk on the Long Beach sand. I could feel the chaos of the battle through traffic sinking into the moist grains under my bare feet. I had decided earlier that taking the day off would be a good idea. So we relaxed and ate and drank and walked and laughed.

Sunday afternoon in Bixby Park, Long Beach was a fun time. The air was soft, the lawn offering a diversity in flora to give the sensation that it might not be sprayed with herbicides. I shared the grassy knoll of a stage with a duet of singing guitar players who were prepared to play for an hour or more so I went first. I offered the songs “Purge”, “Grey Haze” and “we’ve WON!” while S ran the camera. After a quick snack back at the apartment we headed north to West Hollywood to Canter’s Kibbitz room. The place where most of the songs from Appetite for Destruction, the first album released by Guns ‘n Roses, were performed. It was a two song venue (unless you were local, then all your friends would encourage you to play more and you could) so I shared “Purge” and “we’ve WON!” and felt good about it. People listened and one man told me he liked my music. Another couple stood to leave during my performance, but the lady stopped the man in the doorway and listened to me finishing the last song. I took that as a compliment.

On Monday we braved the highways and headed north again to Santa Monica to knock on the door of Serjical Strike Studios. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t a door. I called the phone numbers that the internet had given me for the manager George Tonikian, one was disconnected and the other wasn’t accepting calls at that time. We enjoyed a nice walk on the beach, a meal in a Caribbean style restaurant and did a little thrift shopping. Seeing how hard it is to get around and since there weren’t any open mics in Long Beach on Monday, I took the night off again.

Now it is time to hug my sweet sister and head out to Las Vegas. I think I may sing at the Bikini Bar tonight and be home mid afternoon tomorrow.

A quick packing and out the door.  Thank you so much sister L for letting me crash your pad!

Down to Modesto. A sweet church campus is the home of the Occupy Modesto movement. I relaxed in the fresh air under a tree and read more pages in “Navigating the Collapse of Time”. As the temperature started to drop I moved back into the car and sat in silence with my eyes closed. I took a moment to envision an attentive audience. Listening, appreciating, enjoying. People started showing up and we went into the fellowship hall.

The Modesto Occupy meeting of ten to fifteen people I had the privilege of performing for had an average age eligible to collect social security. They were there on purpose. This wasn’t a fad or a passing “thing to do”. These people understood what was going on and were actively making a change to help their children and grand children and the rest of humanity. The action that was in discussion was raising awareness at what they called the “vulture auctions”. They were acquiring a story of a specific house and the family who lived in it. They were taking the story of this family and their hardship to the foreclosure auction and sharing to the people bidding on the house the personal details of this home, making it more than just an investment. More than just a good deal on another property.

I introduced myself as a farmer and talked about seeds, seed saving and how in the UK selling seed without proper, expensive documentation for each seed variety is illegal. Then sang to them “Purge”. Then “Grey Haze” followed by the story of natural gas development and our home. “Ask Them to Leave” and some facts about cosmetics, body care, food, electricity, farming and natural gas. As a finale I shared “we’ve WON!”. When I finished, they honored me by standing in their applause, then passed the metaphorical hat raising enough cash to nearly fill the fuel tank in the car. I accepted the offered pieces of carrot cake, thanked them again and made to two hour bee line to Los Gatos.

As I came over the ridge and saw the lights sprawling out around me I had a momentary flash of “this is what Silicone Valley looks like.” It was Silicone Valley. I arrived at the yoga studio in Los Gatos moments before the scheduled start of the Conscious Community Club Open Mic. Once again I took a moment to close my eyes and envision acceptance, appreciation and respect. What a group! From pre-teen Calvin’s vocal performance to Kevin’s sharing of Mr. Peabody’s Coal Train and impromptu rhyming to many other amazing performances, this open mic ties as best open mic so far with the Mission and 16th venue in San Francisco. I told them a little of my story, of my travels, the farm, natural gas production then sang “Ask Them to Leave”. In an effort to keep the evening from going into the morning we all kept it to two songs, so I then shared “we’ve WON!” The music I had to share was well received. There was a crystal bowl closing ceremony followed by a round of requesting anything that might be needed to receive or get rid of. During this work was asked for, apartments requested, tires for a friend, and I asked for help getting in touch with my L.A. contact. It was recommended that the angels be asked directly. The angels want to do things for us, they just need to be asked.

I helped clean up for a few moments then folded myself back into the driver seat to make some time towards the big town. I started the car at 12:34 am and put in at least an hour before finding a truck stop to spend a few hours resting in.

The next morning saw me flying down the highway. Through the desert agriculture and up over the dry mountain range. As I was rising the sign warned to turn off the AC to keep engine from overheating and as I neared the top of the pass I saw a strange dust cloud. Or was it industry? Is that smoke? Had I known, I would have turned off the directions on the phone and been ready to take a picture. I came around a corner, and there, on the shoulder was a car fully engulfed in flames. A fire department Suburban was parked with it’s lights on a hundred yards before it, watching it burn. As I passed at sixty-five miles per hour with two empty lanes between us and the window up I could feel the heat on my face. A half hour later traffic began to slow. We were almost off the mountain and into more level ground. Was it six, seven lanes one way? There, in the center lane, a car with it’s flashers on. In the front seat, two people, faces contorted in anger, yelling at each other as one hundred cars per minute inched around them and went on their way.

Please Jetta, thank you for staying in good health. Hello L.A.

Thursday morning I went to meet friend SM for coffee in Oakland proper. What a nice visit! But….. as I was still a couple blocks away from the coffee house I stopped at an intersection and watched in slow motion as a drunken biker (9 am mind you) swerved down the side walk and casually broad sided the passenger side of the car. She put her face close to the window and slurred in a high pitched, raspy voice, “What up, cowboy!” then off she veered down the road. The scratches were minor, thankfully she didn’t come through the window.

So I went back to the city. I got a call from someone I met at the General Assembly of Occupy SF saying that he would like to hear more songs and stories and that I should come back to the meeting on Thursday and share. So I did. Before I sang my song I listened to Beth recount to the digital recorder her experience being arrested in Oakland. I heard her tell of being held over thirty six hours without being charged or booked. I heard her tell of the seventeen year old high school girl suffering the same fate in the cell next to hers. Of the mid seventies lady also held and denied access to her medications. I heard her talk about how, with the new rules that were passed in the Defense Appropriations Bill at the end of ’11, it was easy to see how they could have just disappeared off to Guantanamo and not be heard from again for a really long time. She was shaken by the experience.

I sang “we’ve WON!” then went for a walk back to where I had parked the car. I could feel the strain on my voice to sing at full volume over the traffic and conversations. The most relaxing time in the city for me was sitting in my car reading “Navigating the Collapse of Time” by David Ian Cowan. After a nice break with snacking and beverages I saddled up the old smart phone and headed off the the corner of 16th and Mission to the BART station for the second show of the evening.

Not long after arriving a man started a chalk mandala on the concrete to act as the stage for the evenings poetry slam. This was by far the coolest open mic that I have been to yet. There were probably fifty people there listening and performing and enjoying the cool evening. I sang “Purge” and could feel it in my throat. Once again the loud atmosphere of being in the open air and the traffic made me push harder than I should have. That song went well and was well received. Later when I got back up to sing “Stand” I could tell at the first note that I needed to take it easy. Instead of singing both halves I focused on combining the two and being as gentle on my voice as possible while still having enough volume to be heard. What a neat place to listen and perform. There were poems about personal, about America, about the fallacy of the war on drugs about life. Thank you 16th and Mission for letting me join you for the evening!!

The morning and early afternoon on Tuesday were spent in an exhausting search of the internet for contacts, open mics and locations. After nearly five hours I prepared to collapse into a fitful nap for an hour or so. As I turned off the computer the screen saver came on. A rectangle with the words “No Signal” that bounced around the screen in a rhythmic fashion. As the bouncing started a car with it’s bass booming pulled up on the street in front of the house and idled there for nearly a minute. I watched fascinated as the bass and the bouncing rectangle keep perfect beat until the car drove away.

After resting and eating the second to last piece of lasagne I climbed in the car and even at seven in the evening was able to enjoy a bit of twenty mile per hour stop and go on the interstate for ten or more miles. Do people really do this every day?

In an effort to save my voice I decided that I should listen to music instead of practicing. All of the cd’s were carefully selected to fill a book before I left so my method of music choosing is to reach in and blindly (with out looking) pull a cd from the case and install it in the player. It took many attempts to find one that would play. I think that our cd player in the car is starting to tell us what music it wants to listen to. Finally, “Steal This Album” by System of a Down played. Good choice, I said to the player. I took the exit for Vallejo, the town where Tuesday night’s open mic was held, and as I pulled up to the intersection the traffic lights were flashing in a strange fashion, as if they didn’t have long to function properly. Then I noticed the light that was flashing slowly was matching the bass drum of the song and the light that was stuttering at high speed matched the guitar lick. Cool! Kind of like multiples of 11, a sign that things are going the way they are supposed to.

The other day I commented to my sweet wife that it was fun singing at these shows but I was focusing on my hardest hitting songs for each one, that meant a lot of repeats. I told her it would be nice to sing a longer set and share some of the other pieces. Tonight would be just that night. The MC and I waited a full half hour past start time to begin. We alternated sets for the three people at the bar in the other room. I got my request. Maybe I should be a little more clear in what it is that I want next time.

Set list: Grey Haze, we’ve WON!, Day of the Warrior, Ask Them to Leave, Purge, Stand

One way to look at entering a city like San Francisco is that there is an entrance fee. I have always joked that when you go to Aspen there is a toll booth where they check your credit limit to see if you can enter the town. In SF it wasn’t as much of a joke. You pay to come over the bridge and then of course to park. Between sixteen and eighteen dollars just to get the car in. It is free to leave the city. I would have taken the train but it stops running at midnight and that would have left me stranded according to my experience at other performances.

So I found the open mic venue, Martinu’s, then began the two and a half mile walk to the Occupy general assembly. It felt good to finally get some real exercise again after so many days of sitting. It is really shocking to this farm kid to experience the city. It is so loud, so hurried, so crowded and, it seemed, it would be really easy to be lonely.

The group assembled in front of the Federal Reserve building. A police barricade was in place to keep anyone from coming closer than the sidewalk. Two officers lounged under an outdoor propane heater smoking cigarettes and playing with their phones. The meeting lasted nearly three hours. There was talk of the action they organized on January 20 where many people got arrested. Someone said that City Hall’s doors had been left unlocked under the hopes that something would go wrong. They said that while the Occupy people were being arrested for their protest some “punks that showed up” started breaking things, thus giving them a bad rap.

The primary focus for the evening was a round robin of all attendees stating the two most pressing issues they thought Occupy SF should be working on. Ending capitalism, education, inclusion to name a few. There was a proposal submitted to request that OSF recognize the general strike that is to occur on May Day. Some arguing about something that seemed personal. Then the meeting was over. I requested that I share a song before every one disbanded.

I said, “In my opinion there is something tangible that people can do to end capitalism, restore the power to the people and bring hope. It is a slow action. Find a piece of dirt. Plant a seed. Water it. Then save the seeds that grow there.” Then I sang “Purge”. I offered free house concerts and to show the movie “Thrive”, gave out a couple business cards and went on my way.

By now the open mic sign up was fifteen minutes under way and I had well over a half hour jog/walk ahead of me. I rushed in, found a seat and started realizing this wasn’t going to be my best venue. Open mic in a piano bar means that you need to look through the book, find your favorite show tune, jazz standard or 80′s pop hit, then belt it out while all your friends golf clap. They let me get up for one song. I shared “Definition”, then listened to Little Mermaid and Paula Abdul covers for the next forty-five minutes until I decided they weren’t going to let me back on.

Snack in the car and back to sister L’s. Thank you smart phone, this would have been impossible without you!

I’m in Oakland, staying at sister-in-law L’s house, thank you, thank you!

On Sunday I took the exit for Sacramento and….. too fast to react a red tail hawk dove across the exit ramp in front of my car, pounced on some unsuspecting creature in the embankment, leaped back into the air and soared again to safety. I took this as a good sign that this was an appropriate stop. Even with diligent phone surfing there were no open mics to be found on a Sunday night. My plan had been to go to the state park and shower then assess the town but the phone maps turned me around and around until I gave up and went to the Sacramento Hostel to order up a long nights rest.

Before retiring I ate some homemade lasagne and took a walk. Across the street and around the block took me to the front steps of City Hall… and “Occupy” of sorts. They reminded me of the folks that I don’t enjoy hanging out with at the coffee shop. The guys at the bar that are louder and more obnoxious just to make sure that all know they are there. One man gave me a pamphlet and I offered to sing a song. He said, “Sure!” and walked away. I started singing “we’ve WON!” and halfway through when no one stopped their conversations about drinking and blah blah, or put down their video games, I faded out, wished them luck and continued my walk.

This brought me a couple blocks later to the open house of the Church of Scientology. Curious, I went on in. I fit in nicely, almost. Every on there was wearing all black. I was wearing black cords, grey button down shirt and white Tilly hat. The building was new and shiny with video kiosks every where showing movies about Scientology. Jake greeted me and put down in front of a couple movies to help me learn about their understanding of the universe and humanity. I was interested but wanted more to have social interaction versus movie watching so I moved back out into the main lobby. Many people introduced themselves and steered me back towards the movies. Finally, Jake returned and we talked about the toxins in our environment and our bodies and how Scientology is an all denominational church. He took me down stairs in this newly opened (first day to the public) facility to show me their Purif (for purification) area with tread mills and saunas and a regiment of vitamins that would pull toxins out of their storage compartments in our fatty tissue. He told the story of the man that worked in a garage and how he sweated out pure anti-freeze, or the man who turned the towels blue with his sweat for a couple days, and the people who got radiation burns from the stored radioactive material in their bodies being released through their pores. I bought the book.

Monday morning I woke refreshed and headed out into the world of consumerism. Where I live the thrift stores pretty much don’t even have a men’s section. Boy was I delighted to, in two stops get five pairs of nice jeans for twenty dollars. That alone almost made the whole trip worth while. I also stopped at Skip’s Music and got musicians ear plugs and tried many electronic stores looking for something as outdated as a tiny little one gig memory card. “Sorry, dude, I haven’t seen something that small in years. Try Amazon.”

I cruised on and found The Bistro in Hayward. With my next gig located I climbed back in the Jetta to look for some nature. Four blocks and twenty minutes later (4:15 pm) I found, by luck, a municipal park and took a nice walk. On the way back down I came upon what the movies would let me know was a drug dealing spot. Four or five young Latino men standing around spittin’ rhymes. I asked if I could share and after letting them know multiple times that I wasn’t a cop they said they would listen. They liked “Stand”.

I ate dinner in the car then headed back to The Bistro. It is official. I like open mics in coffee shops better than bars and I was very glad to have the ear plugs. I sang well and received a few solid pieces of positive feed back.  I sang “we’ve WON!”, “Day of the Warrior” and “Stand”.  I am looking forward to performing a set of more than three songs so that I can share some of my other pieces.  Met a music distribution organization that has an intriguing compensation model and a Rap DJ on the local college radio that said “Not on my show, but I’ll talk to the morning DJ.”

Thank you phone for helping me get to sister L’s house safely.

The time is rolling and so are my wheels.  Due to technical difficulties (could be read ‘potential operator error’) I have yet to learn how to post from that fancy phone.  All in good time I am sure.  Here I am at a two dollar per half hour internet kiosk at the Sacramento Hostel.  My first decent nights rest is behind me since I started on this expedition.

Blasting out of home base and entering cell phone reception let me know that the phone activation was unsuccessful.  Luckily the internet on the gizmo was active so I was able to e-mail sweet L and have her contact customer service for me to get it up and running. Once I had the instructions on correcting the phone trouble I had to wait due to a four hour lag before the internet would come back up.  I had to have internet in order to get the wrong directions from MapQuest a couple times.  I e-mailed friend L  for directions to his home in Salt Lake City.  Dinner with L in SLC at a crowded Friday night pub and no Occupy visit due to lack of Mobile Internet Information concerning said event.  Oh well…..  directions to The Coffee House in Riverton via GoogleMaps were a little homey as I ended up in  a posh subdivision a couple miles from the venue.  Michael the MCof the event was very gracious to answer the phone mid open mic and give me the true address.  I showed up as my time slot was ending… once again, gracious Michael moved me to a later spot.  I was unable to get the camcorder going and ……  I sang “instrumental intro”, “Stand”, “Ask them to Leave” with hydro frac’ing description as an intro and closed with “We’ve WON!” and received good response from the audience.  Met a young trio by the name of Grey Fiction who were kicking off their California tour at their home base of Riverton that night.  Maybe we’ll see each other out there.  Back in the car and up the 15 and over on the 80 (trying to say it like I’m in Cali) until rest stop thirty or so miles before the Nevada border.  Bed at around 2 a.m.

Slept in!!  (if you call it sleeping) 8:30 and I’m back at it.  Even with the extra hour and a half of driving last night and the hour that I picked up by crossing the PST zone change there is no way that I’ll make it to the Occupy meeting.  Once I realized this I stopped and made a cup of coffee for the road.  It was beautiful desert weather for a drive, cool and clear, excepting the pervasive haze of the sky grid.

Pulled into Reno around 3:30, found the Walden’s Coffee House, and went to a chain parking lot to eat dinner and asses electronics.  With everything in good order and my belly humming softly to itself it is time for the show.  The hecklers invited me to their table and then told me the Occupy Camp had lost it’s permit on Wednesday and the one guy that stayed got arrested and that due to the popularity of the open mic it is a lottery to see if you get to perform.  My number was drawn!!  As the night progressed I mentioned to MC Todd that I was here for one night only from Colorado and he talked to his featured set performer and offered that I share the 9:30 slot with Bob the amazing classical guitar player from Vegas.

Jimmy Q, the friendly heckler ran the camera for my set while the audio recorder spun on the table.  I opened with “We’ve WON!”, gave a better description of hydro frac’ing than last time before singing “Ask them to Leave” and closed with “Stand”.  Intra, the other heckler, told me that it was a good idea to get other people performing as well to make my documentary more interesting.  So I took clips from some of the other wonderful (and questionably drunk) performers.  I look forward to getting pictures and music and video up on the site but it might have to wait until I am home again.

While on the drive I listened to (not this order):Tracy Chapman, John Butler Trio, Bret Dennen, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, System of a Down, Sonny Rollins, Christina Mendoza, Spearhead, Regina Spector and Aaron Neville.

Now it is time to get earplugs, blank business cards, and see if I can find a card adapter to get some tunes up for ya!