Saturday Night, Sunday Morning and Mr. Maldonado

Poor me (a drink if you please) did not return home until quite late last night. I spent several pleasurable hours at the Zephyr hanging out and hearing EJ play an acoustic set.

My morning started with climbing from beneath the comforter and blankets, stumbling to the kitchen, and finding that the coffee pot had spewed forth it’s caffeinated goodness all over the counter, down the wall across the floor and finally depositing in a pool under the opposite wall.

I did a quick clean-up then got into the car and drove to Bibos for a large cup of dark roast. Then to Albertsons for more coffee because the last of the beans in the house had been reduced to floor mud prior to my awakening.

I do not think that the cashier was amused by my pillow-mussed pigtails, sleepy eyes, cup of aromatic Peruvian and the purchase of a $12.99 bag of Peets along with organic breakfast bars. With my Food Stamp card.

Damned philistines everywhere I turn.
Perhaps I should use my government subsidy to purchase Capt’n Crunch, Coca-cola, Chef Boy-R-Dee, fish sticks and Cheeze-Whiz like the rest of the hygiene-challenged indigent asswads in Reno.
Not.

There was a kick-ass sale on Morningstar Vegetarian stuff yesterday and I loaded up for my beloved Demon Seed. Once again, I’m thinking that veggie burgers, fresh broccoli, cottage cheese and soy milk are not what the hoi-polloi of bottom-feeders are normally hauling out of the cart over there at the market. My grocery list is strangely bereft of saturated fat, high sodium content, un-pronouncable preservatives, empty calories, and stale folgers pesticide-enriched pre-ground dirt.

I am horrified and humiliated to use that card in case you’re wondering. I’ve worked since the age of 15, all though college and until September. Supported my kid and two husbands, a wicked cocaine habit in the 80’s and a mighty fine bar tab until the mid 90’s. Ugh. I feel so dirty now.
Not as dirty as I did after leaving the Welfare office though. I’m selling my shares in Lysol next week because I’m thinking that no one here in Reno uses it.
No Soap. Radio!

It took 4 months to receive approval for a tiny stipend in Food Stamps. I kid you not there is a file here on my desk which is 4 inches thick with documentation I’ve presented over the 4 applications that have been submitted and expeditiously declined.

How do high-functioning morons (with substandard hygiene issues) receive welfare and state aid immediately? Fuck. I have never been on or applied for Food Stamps or Welfare (nor will I ever apply for Welfare thank you very much).

Being self employed I paid the government 30% of my gross income as taxes for 15 years. I humbly asked for a few months of help to feed my kid and am kicked to the curb.
I want to come back in my next life as beautiful and dumb as a fucking box of rocks. It’s gotta be a hell of a lot easier.
End of rant. Just wanted you to know that yesterday morning was indeed an anomaly.

Ever been to the Zephyr? It’s the penultimate in dive bar/local music/colorful casting/smoke-hazed goodness. Not only that but the place is less than 10 minutes from Chez Noir.

There were several bands on bill last night, with a starting time listed as 9:00 pm. We all know that, with the fluke-ish exception of Waldens, NO one starts anywhere close to ‘on time’ in Reno. Oh alright this goes for anywhere not just Reno.

Don’t think I’ve ever been to the Zephyr for a 9:00 show that actually started before 11:00.

So I walk into this bar, which is the set-up to a great joke but that’s another story for another blog, and see; Ej, Fran, the bartender, and a small white dog cavorting on top of the beer tap. Just another regular evening at the Zephyr. Well not really, on a regular evening there would be two dogs on and around the bar. The second made an appearance later with the rest of the crowd in case you’re curious.

It was friggin cold and icy last night and making my way, in high heels natch, from the dry cleaner’s parking lot and through the back door of the Zephyr was an exercise in balance and fortitude. It seemed odd that there were parking spaces open. It seemed odder that only EJ and Fran were there though. The only thing normal was the dog on the bartop and James Brown over the PA.

It was too cold to stay INSIDE and drink alone. Where the hell was everybody?

By 10:30 more Reno denizens had drifted in, including the Maldonado Fan Club Irregulars, but EJ was still the only guy with a guitar in the place. Turns out that the crowd was late and the musicians couldn’t make it at all.

Here was the posted show
Saturday, 13 January:
Acoustics with Julian Peach
EJ Maldonado of Ordinary
Johnny Woytek and Nick Ramirez
plus Two Out Rally

Julian Peach did eventually show and played a good set after EJ was done. No sign was ever seen or heard from the other musicians. I’m thinking alien abduction. Or free beer at Knuckleheads.
At one point EJ was cruising through his Crackberry in an attempt to locate Evan and Wes to flesh out the evening’s bill with ordinary. Funny to me, anxiety provoking to EJ.

The set was wonderful. The stand-outs last night were White and an impromptu rendition of a Jeff Buckley song. Fame and Gold was scrapped and somebody in the audience shouted out a request for a Jeff Buckley tune instead. Damned if EJ didn’t comply.


I’m lovin’ Sorry as the show ender even more for your solo performances. Make it a staple and do the crowd on stage invite. Damn I’m sorry I missed the Waldens show last week. Blame Southwest and the Demon Child.

My friend, your voice sounds better each time I hear you perform. Looking forward to the birthday bash next week with special guest band ordinary. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Ask Fran if she’s getting all tarted up for the occasion or if jeans and a sweater are called for instead.

An epilogue to yesterday’s blog:


As for slipping into an overly-luscious figure, giving up the gym membership and lying about amidst a pile of bon-bons and books? This will never happen. I’m enough of a realist (hope for a change in perceived mores? what the fuck is this ‘hope’ you speak of?) to understand that the huddled masses will only appreciate and covet what the media tells them to. Which makes sense.
This is why we are a nation of sheep ruled by wolves.

On that note I wish you a Happy Hedonistic Sunday filled with good tunes, catching up on laundry, cleaning up muddy coffee debris, and spending time with your kid, cat, dog, significant other, yadda yadda.

* Ej you’re the best singer-songwriter in Reno

* TK I’m so damned happy that you’re home and did I mention…

*Chris! You’re alive. Looking great too.

* James you should have left the damned house last night

* Rebecca, describing you as whacked-out was the closest I could come to adjectifying an act of nature and/or god. Yes adjectifying is a real word. I see it here in Miss R’s Guide to Obscure Yet Vital Grammar

* Richard you’re an awesome skier but you could possibly be the worst fucking musician I have ever heard. You have too much money for expensive cool equipment but the talent of a maggot. You don’t read my blog so now everyone else knows too

* Mark SAT should kiss your ass

* Rachael your weight is the least of your oddities it’s your overtly dark, brooding, abberant, saturnine and analytical nature that disturbs people and causes them to flee. Screaming. Into the night.

* Cate clean your damned room before I call Hazmet


~The Fabulously Well to Do Miss R

2 thoughts on “Saturday Night, Sunday Morning and Mr. Maldonado

  1. Loved your blog Rachel… very funny!! I have been wanting to find a good music hang out for a long time… Zephry’s the one you like is it? If that sounds like a rock i’ve been under, yes, I’m mostly a day person now- have been since i went back to college and blah blah- had a short stint for a while last year being up all night while dating a musician but that’s over now… Loved your honesty about coke in the 80’s (me too) and will definitely pay closer attention to music folks at Zephr in RNR…
    best,
    Susan

    Like

  2. thanks susan!!
    oh i understand being a night person. insomnia is my constant companion. the bastard.
    do you have a blog here, or anywhere else for that matter?

    hope to run into you at reno’s favorite smoke-filled and bizarre music venue!

    Like

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