I’m in Gypsy mode again. Not for long, the Airstream is still parked in Big Bear, in Southern California, and I, in Lake County in Northern California, will begin to make my way home tonight, with a stop in San Francisco to bar hop with an old friend, followed by two or three other stops with other old friends as I make my way down the coast.
I came up here to vend at a show, a combination Renaissance Faire, Highland Games and Celtic Music Festival. I started to write a review of the show, and the music, but it came out hackneyed and boring and dry as a Christmas tree on the curb in March. So I quit, watched a darling Irish movie with my friend Frannie, and talked, drank vodka and visited. A grand time was had by all…well, by we TWO, anyway. I’m skipping time and space here, the festival was this past weekend, it’s now Thursday, so, between then and now I also visited my lovely-loving son and his sweet yet fiery girlfriend, drove up the coast, stopped at a fruit stand, ate ripe strawberries and a lush, drippy peach, ran my dog on Dog-Beach in Santa Cruz, visited with more friends at the self-same rinky-dinky little faire and festival.
I can sum up my “review” in a few short sentences, that will probably be just as dry, but far less boring due to it’s new brevity:
Tempest sucks. (didn’t “Progressive Rock die a delightful death in the late 70’s?)
1916 was pretty good, as was Sligo Rags. But nothing to write home about.
If you’re going to have a “Music Festival” you need to have more than 5 bands for your main stage. You should have a headlining act for each day/evening of the festival, and each band should play only ONCE, not 3 times each day as they did this past weekend. BOOOORING!
Band Pictures on the website are wonderful, but band NAMES would be better! Having a mystery guest is great and all, but if your whole festival is a mystery, you’re gonna miss out on customers and fans!
And, finally, if you’re going to have a “Celtic” music festival, please help all us girls out (or at least THIS girl!) by having at least ONE band with at least ONE truly Irish guy, with a nice face, green eyes, and a lovely lilt in his voice as he sings those lyrics that convey all the thoughts coming out of his deep lush soul. Please?
Oh, one more: put ACCURATE directions on your’ website! If your’ VENDORS can’t find their way to your’ festival because the road on the map does not exist, then your customers probably can’t either.
I did have a curious occurrence at the festival: if you read my last post “Deletion and Apology” you know that I’m working on a theory about living a 9 life, numerologically speaking and perhaps having to burn through Karma from the relationships of the last 8 lives before I can meet a gorgeous hunk of man with which I have absolutely no karma (I want, I want, I want!) As I was driving the four hundred plus miles from Big Bear to Watsonville, I was thinking about this theory and putting old boyfriends in the “Karmic” or “Not Karmic” categories. That’s not as easy as one might think. I mean, the guys with dozens of coincidences go in the “Karmic” category (or would it be “Dharma”?) to be sure, and some of that I can remember, some of it I can’t, and what about those with some albeit fewer coincidences? Then there’s issue of the “First Great Love of My Life”, which, obviously didn’t last, but, it lasted longer than all the others, and he was there for me when I needed him and didn’t just freak and bail, like some of them did. Was he a relationship of Karma from the past, or were we simply creating Karma for the next cycle (or three)? Who, the heck knows!
So, bottom line of all this is, I counted between four and seven guys for the “Karma” list, which means I have a few more to go, or I’m almost done…
But then the funny thing happened;
I ran into the second guy I ever slept with at this festival (honestly not all that surprising, the Renaissance Faire community is like a small town, and even those that “move away” come back periodically to visit.) I’d seen him now and again over the years, and, while he sometimes seems like he’s still a bit sweet on me, I haven’t really been attracted to him since, oh, 1979 or so! (Here’s the scene: I wake up the morning after our tryst, at his house, to find him gone. I get up, pull on my clothes and follow the sounds I hear to the kitchen, where I find…his mother. We introduce ourselves and sit down for the most awkward breakfast I’ve ever had, full of stilted conversations and inane questions. Awesome! The guy? Well, he pretty much shunned me for the rest of the faire after that first time with him/second time ever experience, so, it wasn’t too hard for me to get over it!)(Plus, shallow, I know, but I’ve aged well, while he hasn’t.)
So there I am talking to him, and he keeps coming back around to the booth, bringing me things to eat and drink, kinda flirting. I’m thinking, wow, he looks like my un-favorite brother, the one who tortured me all through my childhood, locked me in the toychest, teased me mercilessly, that brother. Not at all attracted to him. And his name? Well, the same as my brother, of course. Then we get on the subject of age, signs, birthdays…now, somewhere in the recesses of my mind I remember that he is a Gemini, like me, like my brother. Turns out though (of course!) that he has the same birthday as that brother, the one he looks like, who has the same name, the one that tortured me as a child!
“Really???!!!!!!” I question the Universe. “Really?” Just can’t imagine why this guy would be one of those Karmic things, but three coincidences are enough to count…maybe in one life I became a priest or a nun very early on, and only had a very short-lived lightweight love of sorts…or maybe he was someone who annoyed the crap out of me back in some other life, and I shot him or beat him to a pulp, or even had him beheaded (Oh, yes, I like this one! If I had him beheaded then that would’ve made me a figure of authority, a Queen or a King, or an Emperor…I mean, after all, EVERYONE is Cleopatra in their past life, right?)(Right????!!!!!!)
So, anyway, curiosity and giggles aside, if there is something to this tiny ridiculous theory I’m working on, the woo-woo one that makes even ME shake my head in amusement…if there IS something to this theory, then this guy checks one more soul off the list and puts me one step closer to the “No-Karma-ever-before-guy”, which is just fine by me, because it means I might be DONE with those old, used souls and ready for a new love; or, if not done, pretty darn close! I mean, I could whip though the remainders in a couple of months, if the Universe would just cooperate with me on it! Please, Universe, please?
Yes, I’m silly! We all know that…but it’s fun to think about, isn’t it? I mean, otherwise I could be thinking about some reality show where people behave badly and drink too much and are mean and hideous to their friends….naw, I’ll stick to my esoteric little theories about life, the universe, and…everything! (and YES! I fly my geek flag high, I surely do, though I hope Douglas Adams progeny don’t want to sue me for usurping this particular line!)
Ahhh! I’m getting my old warped sense of humor back, thank the gods! I’m so much happier when peculiar things amuse me!
Time to hit the road!
Next day now. Had a delightful evening with my dear friend Felipe, drinking and laughing and catching up. First we went to a straight-ish dive bar in the Mission, Pops. (supposedly a lesbian bar, but that wasn’t apparent with all the hetero couples making out) The place was far too loud and the ambiance was non-existent…the bathroom was disgusting, and I suck at both Galaga and Frogger, and don’t really understand the desire to play 80’s era video games while in a bar. Soon Felipe (or Phil, as I’ve always known him) suggested we head towards the Castro, which, since it’s the beginning of the Gay Pride celebrations, should be hopping. On our way there he lists the different bars we could go to and I request something quieter, so we can talk, and, please, something cleaner. We end up at Last Call, which used to be The Men’s Room. This place is perfect. Redwood interior, with barrel vaults on the ceiling, gorgeous old bar, and, all decorated for Gay Pride with rainbow paper sphere’s and a giant fuchsia boa outlining the mirrors backing the bar. A couple of gorgeous and over-the-top Drag Queens, were seated in the back, one of them in a fluffy white tulle dress with twinkle lights between the layers. Perfection I tell you! The music level is just right, allowing conversation, and soon Phil and I are making friends left, right and center. Another cider, more laughter and conversation, a great mix on the jukebox, from Gloria Gaynor to The Smiths and The Cure. Talking with forty-somethings who can’t believe I have a twenty-four year old kid…I wanna brag that I just turned fifty-four, but I only do to Phil who keeps calling me beautiful and a “hot goddess”. Phil and I talk about our recent break-ups, and how we’re coping, me by writing and living, and, finally doing quite well, thank you very much; him by rowing, and racing and training, and, not doing quite as well, but his relationship spanned two and a half years instead of six weeks, so that’s no wonder. But he is doing fine, and will be doing better soon, I can tell. We advise the girl next to us at the bar to just leave the guy she’s dating alone, since he’s being a jerk to her, and let him come to her, or just move the hell on. (ah, how we wish it was that easy!) She and I talk about how many bizarre games some guys play, but I insist it’s not all guys. (I’m over it, she’s still in it, hence the disparity in our cynicism) Soon it’s time to leave and I have to admit I’ve had a grand old time. I love and adore Phil, and I can’t believe it’s been four years since I got to spend any time with him!
Now I am at my friend Laurie’s in San Jose. We’re going to her friends house for ‘Movie Night’ this evening, which should be a blast, with great people and Margaritas…for now we’re talking and laughing and we’re both on the computer.
I will update this tomorrow with new tales of adventure on the road.