Reverse Migration

Last night was just how I'd envisioned my introduction to Minneapolis to be. I'd be invited out by an old friend, the friend would tell funny stories that included our previous adventures together in the Bay Area, and I'd slowly ease in to conversations, confident of my place at the party.

My transition into Minneapolis was not as smooth. I thought I was prepared for the cultural differences. I was never prepared to start completely new, which is something I knew going in and one of the reasons I moved to the Minneapolis.

Try imagining being cool enough to be at the party, but not cool enough for anyone to actually talk to you. I was starving for attention, which only made me less attractive. Who wants to the talk to the guy who tries too hard?

I wanted to stand on my own merits, but I needed an in. Once "inside" Minnesotans will give you the shirt off their back. There are many layers of acquaintance before you prove worthy of friendship. Getting to that point takes time, lots of time, and I wasn't prepared for just how many callbacks I'd need to get the part. The audition felt never ending.

Many of these steps are skipped once someone vouches for you. Last night that happened, as easily as I'd expected it.

My buddy Greg is in town for Christmas from San Francisco. We met six years ago in the Bay Area. Greg was always one of my favorites: a lovable guy with a big heart that you never once questioned his motives. There aren't many people who listen to techno in San Francisco - techno music, not the catchall term like "electronica." Techno is the same vein as Richie Hawtin, Detroit's Underground Resistance, or Minnesotan Woody McBride.

Techno is much more popular in the Midwest. Whenever a techno artist performed in San Francisco, all of the Midwest transplants would come out for the show. Due to our shared love for the four to the floor, I have friends from Chicago, Toledo, Detroit, Madison, Minneapolis, and Kansas City. Techno vouched for me. My new friends and I had a common love. The rest of the details work themselves out.

I don't listen to electronic music as much as I used to. The music still holds a soft spot in my heart. I'll always be grateful for the relationships that formed thanks to techno. I still love dancing to it, just not as much as I used to.

Greg vouched for me last night the same way techno did for him many years ago. Many of those initial barriers were skipped ad relaxed, stress-free discourse was had. I now have New Years plans. I now have the beginning of steps of a friendship, several steps beyond acquaintance.

‘Tis the Season... Part 2

We got everything done we had planned for. Sometimes there aren't enough hours in the day to complete all of my tasks, especially when Rebecca is involved.

We made due with the "groceries" we picked up at SA and Walgreens. Rebecca and I picked up another Christmas orphan, Serg, before making a delicious breakfast. I took a picture of the end result that I'll post on flickr later.

After breakfast we went to the Rosedale Mall to see Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I'm a huge Johnny Depp fan, and I love it when Depp works with Tim Burton. The "look" Burton gives his movies is unmatched in todays movie industry. Don't watch Sweeney Todd if blood makes you uncomfortable. Although, Burton's use of blood is so over the top that it's comical.

Later a group of us had dinner Triple Rock. I wish we'd been more prepared for the lack of options over Christmas. Not many restaurant remained open. Most bars remained open. That's to be expected, I guess, but despite the Walgreens employees assertion, Walgreens is not a grocery store. Triple Rock sounded like the best option to me; there's just something very Christmasy about their mashed potatoes and meat gravy. The mashed potatoes remind me of something my grandmother would make. It is my favorite thing on their menu and the best mashed potatoes I've ever eaten.

We finished up dinner, picked up the sleds in south Minneapolis and headed to 40th and Bryant Ave. South. It was obvious the hill had been run a lot by the difficulty we had walking back up the hill. The closer we got to the top the less snow there was. For every two steps forward equaled one step backwards.

A group of "natives," as they called themselves, were sledding along side us. The two guys stripped down to their boxers and boots for the final runs. Crazy. Crazy, I say. They tried to get me to join them. It's true that it was a warm 34 degrees, but I'm just not crazy enough to expose that much of myself to the weather. I knew I wasn't their intended victim when they started in on Rebecca. If Rebecca had taken her shirt off, I'm sure the boys would have ended up naked.

We finished up and headed to CC Club for a drink and to soak in some more Christmas spirit. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted guy who I thought was Josh Hartnett. I wasn't really paying attention. I'd heard stories of people seeing him out. I remember the Strib made a point of covering a Hartnett and Scarlett Johansson appearance a couple years ago. As i said the other day, unless you're a cultural icon, I'm not really impressed. We all have careers. We all have things we do for a living. Harnett's job just happens to be entertaining an audience. If it had been Prince, however, there's no doubt I would have to tell him what a fan I am.

Hartnett was fun in 40 Days and 40 Nights, but I'm more a fan of Shannyn Sossamon. I casually mentioned seeing Hartnett to Rebecca, and as she looked in his general area, it became obvious that half the bar was also staring at him. I couldn't imagine what it'd be like to have people stare at me every time I went out for a bite to eat or a drink. He was dressed like any other indie hipster kid in the bar. This was his turf just as much it was everyone else's.

Christmas was a success. Family in California received gifts. Mail arrived today from California. Rebecca and I started a some new traditions of our own. I introduced Rebecca to a Christmas tradition of my own, watching Miracle on 34th Street (1947) on Christmas Eve. I'm looking forward to my next trip out west, but over all I'm very pleased with my first white Christmas.

Homogenization

I’ve often joked with people that I’ve met here that I should write a “how-to” book on moving to Minnesota. Sort of a Dummy’s Guide to the Minnesota, it’ll be mostly in jest with kernels of knowledge to be found throughout the book. Yesterday I discovered that the Twin Cities shuts down at 4 PM on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve is not a national holiday. I understand that we all want to get home to see our families on the holidays, but as far as I know, America is not a Christian nation. We are supposed to be a melting pot, where each of us can find our way through being a good person, driven by capitalist ideals.

The forced homogenization of immigrants – the Twin Cities with its large Hmong and east African population – to the American way of life only makes us look like hypocrites. Not everyone in this Christian nation is in fact a Christian. Just because someone moves here doesn’t mean they should be expected to leave his or own creeds in their home nation. What about all of the Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Pagans or Atheists that do not celebrate Christmas with us. Are they, too, expected to celebrate the American commercialized Christmas?

As for those who celebrate Christmas and yet because of life still needed to buy groceries, well, you’re out of luck unless you are willing to do your grocery shopping at Chicago-Lake Liquors, Walgreens and Super America Gas Station. Everything else in the Twin Cities was closed. Google’s 411 text service helped us search out our options.

After over three hours of searching, Rebecca and I purchased Jameson 12 Year, a bottle of Champaign and Spiced Rum from the liquor store; eggnog, two bottle coca cola, whip cream and white bread from Walgreens; frozen sausage, bananas and an energy drink from SA. The bread, whipped cream and bananas are for French toast. The alcohol, eggnog, and coke are, well, mixed drinks. I did discover last night spiced rum and eggnog were invented to be mixed.

We gave up on the idea of cooking dinner last night. We just weren’t prepared for the 4 PM curfew. Luckily Hard Times Café was open, so we eat our Christmas Eve dinner surrounded by others searching for a hot meal, fighting against forced homogeneity.

Rebecca and I have exchanged gifts this morning. Now we’re picking up a friend, making French toast, watching Sweeney Todd and going sledding. It should be an action packed day.

‘Tis the Season...

Forgive me if I’m not feeling the holiday spirit. It’s not that I’m sad or depressed or angry or down in any way. It just doesn’t feel like the holiday season. This is the first Christmas in my 29 years that I will not spend it with family. As a kid my friends always mattered more to me than my family. I was ungrateful for my family offered. It wasn’t until there was physical distance between us that I grew to really appreciate what was always right there in front of me. I know that there will be more years to come to spend with family.

I’m spending Christmas Eve and day with my friend Rebecca. Neither of us have family in Minnesota. We’re going to make night of it, with a gift exchange Christmas morning, breakfast, Sweeney Todd and sledding.

While I love my family very much, I’m also a firm believer that we make our own paths in life and that we shouldn’t be held back by our love for our families. I moved half way across the country to experience something new. For all I know, I’ll end up back in the Bay Area someday. Right now, this is my time, my opportunity, to live outside of my comfort zone, where I can experience a different culture.

I’ve always respected how much family means to most Minnesotans. Last year on a date, I was cornered into the “what I don’t like about Minnesota” conversation. Usually I can bob and weave and stay away from the subject. But I realized that night that it’d easier to share what I do like rather than what I don’t.

J: I know you hate it here.
Me: I really don’t. I mean, if I hated it here, I would have left already. I won’t pretend that there aren’t things I don’t understand or like about Minnesota.
J: Right, see, I read all the time on Craigslist’s “Rant & Raves” how we’re this or that or this.
Me: Well, what makes you think that the same things don't matter to me as they do you?
J: Your family isn’t here. How could you appreciate the same things I do?
Me: How do you know that I don’t appreciate the fact your family means so much to you? I really do like that family means as much as it does
J: Oh, right, um… that wasn’t the response I expected.
Me: I told you I wasn’t like everyone else.

As many of us get together with our friends and family to celebrate the holidays, I think it’s more important to pay attention to what we have in common than what separates us. Have a glass of eggnog rum, will you, and don’t forget to tell the people in your lives that you love them.

Eyedea & Abilities Review

Saint Paul’s own Eyedea & Abilities define where hip-hop is from, where it is, and where it’s going. I first heard his name after he won Scribble Jam in 1999. I first saw Eyedea open for Atmosphere at Slims, in San Francisco. But it was only recently that I fell in love with him as an MC when I watched Eyedea and Slug free style on You Tube. (Part 1 and Part 2 Both Clips Are a Must) Years of listening to First Born, The Many Faces of Oliver Hart, and E & A never did his skills justice.

A natural performer - notice I didn’t say a natural rapper, but rather a natural performer – Eyedea’s flow, presence and love for his music are visible once he steps on the stage. There are better rappers, story teller, and song structure but put a mic in front of his face and it’s impossible to miss his charisma.

Eyedea’s charisma was on full display for Eyedea & Abilities sold out performance at West Bank’s Triple Rock Social Club last Thursday night, which is impressive considering most local artists have trouble selling out on a weekend. Just like Doomtree a week earlier, E &A bring together several of the five elements of hip-hop: Abilities DJing, Eyedea rapping, and the addition guest MC “Carnage” beat-boxing. The addition of beat-boxing was once conventional, but today it’s rare to hear. All that was missing from the picture was a graffiti artist mural and a break dancing circle to complete all “five elements of hip-hop.”

There are times when Eyedea retreats to a more comfortable position, with his back to the audience, leaving Abilities turntablism at center stage. On the opposite end of the spectrum, with an almost split personality, he feeds off the Minnesota love - presenting himself raw and vulnerable to the audience.

Abilities turntable skills deserve equal attention. It’s easy for Abilities to get lost behind Eyedea. But Abilities is a two time DMC Regional championships, and his production allows Eyedea to shine. Abilities turntable interludes of harkens back to Terminator X, Mix Master Mike and much later A-Trak. It’s refreshing that unlike Public Enemy, the Beastie Boys and Kanye West, Abilities gets equal billing with his MC.

Each songs lack of transition reflects Eyedea’s experience as a battle MC. What he lacks in transitions, he more than makes up for lyrically. Whether the lyrics are autobiographical or strictly fiction is not important. Cadence and flow are on point, reminiscent of the youtube clip. E & A’s performance of “A Murder of Memories” and “Now” standout in a crowd of new and old songs.

If E & A’s performance says anything about what is to come from the duo, I’ll be sure keep my ear to the ground for the rest of my days in Minnesota.

Weekly Rundown of Links

Bay Area Links
SF Chronicle: Pew survey: Half of us have looked up people we know on Internet
TOUGH ODDS FOR GAMBLING ADDICTS
SJ Mercury: San Jose taking no chances amid rumors of tainted bingo at senior centers
Freezing your icicles off? The cold's all relative
Oakland Tribune: Oakland Mayor Ron Dellums seeks probe of 'threats' to pot sites
Twin Cites Links
Star Tribune: Wisconsin school district makes home drug tests available
Woman, driving drunk, hits cop car making a DWI stop
City Pages: The Year's Best Local Albums
Peer into the Ears of Dan Wilson and Al Franken
The Rake: Let the Good Times Roll

Sent from Blackberry Pearl: Love the winter/Hate the winter

Rebecca and I are going sledding on Christmas after watching Sweeney Todd. Today it's a balmy 32 degrees, with wet Lake Tahoe like snow.

The car on my left spun out and just missed hitting me this morning. He is on the side of the road. I came to a complete stop after sliding at 35 mph on the freeway - 8 minutes late to work, car in one piece and unhurt.

Two years ago I flipped my recently paid off Nissan Altima on the same stretch of 35 NW. I'll never forget climbing out of an upside down car. It was all in slow motion, just like in the movies. No one that saw the accident stopped to help, especially the trucker who ran me off the road. Several concerned citizens that saw the car upside down on the embankment did stop to help me climb from the wreckage.

At this point, I'm just happy to be in one piece.

Eyedea and Abilities @ Triple Rock 12/20/2007

Click on the images for the album. Review to follow.

Only in Minneapolis.

Yesterday I had an only in Minneapolis moment. While buying my brother's Christmas present at Fifth Element in Uptown, I walked past Slug from Atmosphere. I really didn't have much to say to him. I thought about getting his autograph for my brother. I know he would have appreciated, but I just can't bring myself to interrupt someone's day without a valid enough reason.

For Example, many years back I met Hulk Hogan at the Old Spaghetti Factory in Hollywood. I was a HUGE Hogan fan as a kid and I was still debating whether I should interrupt his meal. Growing up in Pacific Grove, where we border Pebble Beach and Carmel, it was not uncommon to meet celebrities. But Hulk Hogan was a little different. He was an icon of my adolescence. While playing the idea in my head of what I'd say, my dinner was interrupted by a phone call from my friend Emilia. The moment she heard Hogan was eating two tables away, Emilia demanded to speak to him. I wasn't about to interrupt his dinner so she could talk to him but what came next changed that.

Emilia: Come on, I want to talk to him.
Me: No, you caaan't talk to Hulk Hogan.
Emilia: What, are you not a man? Are you too much of a wimp to hand him the phone? Yeah, that's what I thought.
Me: Yeah, fine. You can talk to him.

Me: Mr. Hogan, I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner. But my friend Emilia is on the phone and she really wants to talk to you.
Hogan: No problem, kid. It happens all the time.

I wasn't sure here what he meant, do his meals get interrupted all the time? I'm sure this is true. Or is it that overzealous fans want to speak to him on the phone? I never asked. Hogan took my phone and talked to her for a few minutes. I'm not exactly sure what was said between them, but Hogan ended the conversation with, "Stanford Sucks! It was nice talking to you, Emilia." We tried to buy him a drink for his trouble, but he said he doesn't drink in public, which was something I could respect. Yes, all it took was a little challenge to my masculinity to push me towards the decision I wanted to make anyway. That was my only in Hollywood moment. I'm not sure I would have gotten the same experience or even a similar story from interrupting Slug's conversation, so I just continued on with my day.

By the way, yes, Hogan looked almost exactly like the photo above at the restaurant - black painted on beard and all.

Weekly Rundown of Links

Bay Area Links
Oakland Tribune: Danville artist creating a sculpture monument of human rights leaders
San Francisco Chronicle: Doctoral students turning down UC due to inadequate aid packages
Porn prince wants to build kinky condos in Armory
S.F. leaders hear about Portland's approach to homelessness
San Jose Mercury: Toy guns draw real cops to San Jose Wendy's
Twin Cities Links
Star Tribune: Minnesotan Diablo Cody's 'Juno' knocked up -- and out of the park
Vita.mn: Alexis on the Sexes: Leapin' libidos!
MPR: Minneapolis officers fired on, not hurt
TC Daily Planet: Hard Times re-opens!
MN Monitor: The Biblical Roots of LGBT Oppression

Doomtree Blowout 3 Review

Doomtree is by far my favorite local, with his infectious smile and hype attitude, I wouldn't pay to see any of them on their own. Not that they are all not talented, but together they can create magic. I first saw them open at Mel Gibson and the Pants record release show a couple years back. The obvious love each of them has for the other reminded me of Quannum MCs - Lyrics Born, Lateef the Truth Speaker, Gift of Gab and Joyo Velarde, though Doomtree's style is nothing like the Bay Area's hip-hop heroes - where Quannum is funk fused Doomtree is punk rock.

They all have his or her own style that together - in tandems of twos, threes and sometimes more - mesh perfectly together. Dessa's blend of soul, latin flava and spoken word is a perfect match for Cecil Otter's mix of spoken word, classic story telling MCing. Sims party rocking, big beat energy is a perfect balance for either Mike Mictlan or P.O.S. Mictlan can act as Robin to P.O.S's Batman with utter ease. It's obvious that most of them have been friends since their early teens. Rarely is Mictlan alone on the stage. More often instead he provides the obvious direction to either Sims or P.O.S spitfire delivery.

If I had one complaint, it's that Dessa should have a more active role in the group. Her energy would provide calming to the rambunctious boys the same way Joyo does with the Quannum MCs, minus the overplayed neo-soul that Quannum has been bringing these days. Friday night was no different. It was obvious that at times the boys - Mictlan, Sims and P.O.S - would get ahead of themselves. It appears that nothing could get Cecil Otter worked up into a frenzy. The balance on the stage was not always there. Banging into each other both lyrically and physically transitions and delivery was not always on spot. Dessa would bring something to rein that in.

Beyond the at times chaotic presence on the stage, every other aspect of this group brings it nightly refusing - yes, it feels like a concerted effort - to leave you unmoved. The production by the stable of Doomtree talented beat makers brings out the best in each MCs talents. It was nice to see the Doomtree producers get a moment in the sun, introducing one of the final sets, with a mash up of turntable skills and live on-the-spot drum machine driven beats. It was a perfect prologue to the oncoming MCs.

Minneapolis loves Doomtree and Doomtree loves Minneapolis. Most of the audience had memorized the lyrics - reciting them in conjunction with each MC - even for tracks from the yet to be released Cecil Otter album. Throughout the night, in unison hands would rise forming the Doomtree's winged signs It's as if the audience is a member of an exclusive club that only they, Minnesotans, are aware exists. Doomtree feeds into this with call and response phrases that are true to the Twin Cities. When P.O.S asks "Where you at?" in the track Living Slightly Larger, Mictlan responded, "Minneapolis," which brought a smile to P.O.S's face and an eruption of cheers from the audience.

The mutual affection is not taken for granted by Doomtree. P.O.S's punk roots is obvious in the makeup of the audience, a hodgepodge from of across the board, piercings, mohawks, hip-hop kids, and indie kids all across the board. Like most hip-hop Twin Cities shows, the crowd is mostly white kids from the suburbs. Only this eclectic mix of characters on the stage bring his or her own element to the audience attracting an only in Minnesota vibe.

No Dance Band. Yes Hard Times Cafe.

Tonight I had every intention in meeting up with Maren and Kos at the Varsity Theater for Dance Band and Mel Gibson and the Pants. Of the two bands, MGP is one of my favorite local bands only trailing Doomtree, but something has to be said for the way Dance Band makes hipsters move.

No one in the Twin Cities moves a dance floor the way Dance Band does. All inhibitions are lost and regardless of the venue, Turf Club, Hexagon or the Triple Rock, dance floors hop in rhythm, everyone knows all of the words and are unafraid to sing them back at frontman Captain Octagon. Each band member dates on an split personality from another planet, with costume to match. It's a site to be seen and experienced.

Unfortunately, thanks to a late night at First Ave. for Doomtree and a long day at work, I fell asleep for a power nap and missed the show. I arrive just in time to catch Maren as she was leaving for the grand reopening of Hard Times Cafe. I was glad to see word got out and Hard Times fans came out in droves. The line was out the door when we arrived at just after 1 AM. It didn't take long for me to break out my camera to capture the moments.

It was obvious just how much everyone missed Hard Times, as it was still standing room only an hour after we arrived. The quesdadilla was just as I remembered it and the salsa was perfect. The delay in being served was to be expected with the number of patrons. It felt like a family reunion. People were hugging. The chatter was deafening at times. Smiles could be seen at any turn and laughs could be heard from across the room.

I'm sure that the crowds won't remain this big for too long. I'm looking forward to quiet nights - I say this in jest, because there's never a completely quiet night at Hard Times - with a chai and vegan muffin in hand as I study for an impending test. Until then, the eclectic crowds alone can keep me entertained late into the night just as they did tonight.

Video From Hard Times Cafe Reopening

Doomtree Blowout 3 - First Avenue, Minneapolis, MN

Full Set Here Behind Link
Real entry entry, review to follow tomorrow.

Hard Times Cafe: Always Open and Open to All

I'll never forget the first time I stumbled into the Hard Times Cafe, half awake, unsure exactly what I'd walked into. The mix of people reminded me of the first time I walked down Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley -- as a closed-minded 17-year-old. I grew up like many of you in small town. Only my small town was located 2.5 hours south of San Francisco in Pacific Grove nestled between Monterey, Pebble Beach and Carmel. Pacific Grove is still today referred to as the "Last Hometown." I had no idea what to make of Telegraph. I'd yet to learn anything about the famous protests of the 1960s on "Telegraph Hill" leading up to and through the UC Berkeley Campus. The mix of malnourished gutter-punks with their malnourished dogs to match, college students and tourists caused for a collision of many world, my small world being the least of it.

I'd never witnessed anything like it before. Half afraid, half shocked and completely closed off. I never gave it a chance. There was no way I could have ever imagined I'd make Telegraph Ave. my home three years later. My mind and heart were not yet open to what I was seeing. Later it became one of my favorite places to buy records, pick up a slice of pizza at Fat Slice and shop for quirky Christmas presents. Berkley became a home away from the "Last Hometown", more comfortable within my East Bay surroundings than I ever was in Pacific Grove.

Hard Times Cafe reminded me of that feeling: Comfort amongst the freaks, everyone minding his or her business, and certainty that no one was judging you. Whether it was late at night after a few drinks, on a long break between classes or for a quick chai and muffin before heading out on the night, Hard Times was always open to anyone and everyone who was open minded enough to experience it. The 6 AM to 4 AM - 22 hours per day - afforded even the worst insomniacs amongst us a spot to be at peace. The restrooms were never been the cleanest. The random graffiti was never the most artistic. The patrons were always the most eclectic. And the menu is the most health conscious (mostly vegan and vegetarian) junk food available in the Twin Cities.

Hard Times has been closed since the beginning of August as they fought with the city over health codes violations and permitting. What all of the regulars are doing to fill his or her fix is anyone's guess. But I learned today that Hard Times is reopening this Saturday at midnight. I'm unsure whether that means the doors open at Friday night/Saturday morning at 12:00 midnight or if that means that the doors open at 12:00 midnight Saturday night/Sunday morning. Regardless of the details, which you can stay posted to on their MySpace page, I know that I'll be making a stop by sometime this Sunday for a quesadilla, and I look forward to re-introducing Hard Times back into my normal stomping grounds, just as I did with Telegraph Ave. many years ago.

Hockey in Your Blood. Hockey in Your Soul.

California is hardly known for its ice rinks, so as a child, I followed the best team in the world - Wayne Gretzky's Edmonton Oilers. With Mark Messier, Jari Kurri, Paul Coffey and Grant Fuhr, the Oilers were the greatest show on ice. At the time, it wasn't uncommon to watch Sunday afternoon hockey on ABC. This was before the days cable television took over the airwaves and well before the days of the San Jose Sharks. Before the Sharks came along, Gretzky moved on, leaving Canada, for Hollywood with his beautiful blond wife.

They were a couple made for California -- well before David and Victoria Beckham took over the tabloids earlier this year. I was never a die hard hockey fan. Any Californian prior to Gretzky's trek west to the Los Angeles Kings that told you they were was a) either lying or b) not a native Californian. Gretzky made Californians leave the hockey highlights on while watching Sports Center, but not much else. It didn't change anything within the culture. I've always been a believer that unless you come from a state with real winters you cannot be a true hockey fan.

This opinion has only strengthened since I moved here. While the North Stars left for warmer clients, hockey never left the blood of Minnesotans. I love seeing both hipsters and aging, graying sports fans in retro Minnesota North Stars jackets. Even at the lowest level of fandom - fashion -the North Stars are still in the hearts of many Minnesotans. I should make it clear. I'm talking about the North Stars and not the bastardized version now playing in Dallas. If the Sharks ever left San Jose for another city, I know that the same love would not still be there for the team. There would not be retro Sharks jerseys worn by hipsters on Haight Street. You'll never hear a San Francisco Giants fan debate the merits of the Cow Palace and HP Pavilion (the Sharks former and current arenas) with a panhandler as I did last year at a Twins vs. A's game. I pretended to stare off searching for my friend, but instead I was amazed the common denominator that can be met between Minnesotans of all socio-economic backgrounds.

Tonight the Sharks thrashed the Wild 4-1 - finally looking like the team the pundits and the fans expected the Sharks to be. The Wild play the most boring style of hockey imaginable. Only in Minnesota would fans permit such a boring style, substance over style. The most entertaining part of the match was not Steve Bernier two goals, but the stark difference in the way the two teams local newspapers covered the match.

The San Jose Mercury's upbeat, anything is better than yesterday, we're on a roll theme balanced against the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune's doomsday, we're never going to win again, this is the end if things don't change theme was hilarious.

Give them a read... SJ Mercury and the Minneapolis-St. Paul Star Tribune.

I'm not the biggest hockey fan. Then again I did grow up a 49er fan with Jerry Rice as my hero, so who can fault me for being a California boy at heart?

Smoking Ban Does Its Job

My daily readings include several newspapers. To be honest I enjoy the free indie publications more than Star Tribune or the Pioneer Press. I'm usually frustrated more often than not when I finish the Strib. I was happy to hear the state-wide smoking ban that went into effect that more Minnesotans were trying to quit. I grew up in a household where both of my parents smoked. It wasn't until my late teens that my mother quit. Growing up in that environment can lead to two things: an early start on smoking or being repulsed by the smell of cigarettes.

My clothes reeked of cigarettes and I've never once smoked one. Just thinking about it now is frustrating. I always joke that no one smokes in California. That's far from true. But California's laws sure do make it difficult on smokers. They have for years and because of that along with other factors, it feels like most Californians do not smoke. I didn't make it out of Minneapolis for three months, right in the heart of the winter. I didn't venture far, only across the river to St. Paul, but it felt like I walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Where in Minneapolis my lungs were clear of tobacco, in St. Paul I couldn't breathe. The yellow tobacco grime covered the walls. My winter clothes, after only a few hours, needed to be washed. Asthma of years gone by showed signs again. I was miserable and told myself I'd never go back. Weeks later on a trip up to Moorhead/Fargo, I came across that same experience. It was a struggle for me to keep my breath, the constant threat of hyperventilation was present. I just couldn't "get it." The health of everyone was being directly challenged by the few. Since that weekend I've been lucky enough to stay out of too many smoking environments.

The laws have since changed and I'm thrilled to hear along with that the culture is changing. I've since been back to St. Paul, one the law changed last year, but now that I know the rest of the state has opened its mind to the smoking ban, I can safely open my lungs to many more cities.

Out and About With Johnny

Yesterday my favorite reader spotted me out on the town. I wish she would have said, Hello. I really am approachable. Don't be scared. I don't bite. I don't even have much of the a bark. Johnny, Maren and I made a quick stop at Spyhouse, on Nicolett, for chai before hitting up The Minneapolis Institute of Arts. We'd all spent too much money since Johnny arrived Wednesday night, so we decided against paying for the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit.

The Minneapolis Public Library offers free passes to most of the local museums and select other attractions. On Thursday, I had picked up free passes from for the Frida Kahlo exhibit at The Walker. In the last several months, I've seen Picasso and Frida for free thanks to the public library system and The Walker. Finding fun, free-to-low cost outings in the Twin Cities has been a lot of fun. The Minneapolis art scene has been one of my favorite things about the city, also with the Art-a-whirl in my neighborhood just after I moved to Northdeast.

Frida challenged so many stereotypes, at the same type demonstrating her vulnerabilities and narcissistic tendencies for the World to see. I identify with straddling this line. The decision to start writing here came down to me recognizing that yes, my voice does matter. All of of have a voice and it's our duty to express it hoping that others will find truth within our experiences. Truth is not constant. Truth is the perception of one or of the masses and my truth might be yours. Hopefully someone can find truth within these words.

Frida's truth was never better demonstrated than the series of black and white photos. Seeing a 16-year-old Friday wearing her father's best suit. hair slicked back, confident in her appearance and in control of her sexuality was inspiring. We all should aspire to reach that level of confidence of our place in the World.

We headed to the Bad Waitress, another favorite of mine, before going sledding at Buck Hill, in Burnsville. The farther I get away from the Twin Cities the more open the people I meet are to strike up a random conversation. The kid working the tubing area had many questions about California. He quizzed Johnny on Lake Tahoe and me on the professional sports teams I follow. For the record, I've never been an Oakland Raiders fan. I blame Al Davis for many of the problems my Oakland Athletics have had over the years. I grew up a 49er fan, which I'll still proudly claim, despite the 49ers poor performance today again the Vikings.

The tubing attendee never once asked me why I moved here. It was refreshing. We had an honest conversation without ever making the other feel like a foreigner. I miss those random conversations. We concentrated on what we had in common and not what our differences were, while at the same time recognizing that differences do exist.

Extreme Tubing

Exploring Minneapolis

Johnny is still in town from San Francisco. Thursday night we had late night drinks at the CC Club. I think he enjoyed watching and comparing his hipster to our hipsters - the assortment of cold weather accessories and selections on the jukebox. Late night drinks led directly to late night snow angels. We had brunch at Sunnyside Up Cafe in Uptown, favorite of mine, for its mix of neighborhoodies, hipsters, families. It's rare that you see everyone in one restaurant. That's also the reason I love the Hexagon Bar, off Hiawatha, so much.

I took him around Lake Calhoun and Harriet yesterday. His Converse Chuck Taylor's were probably not the best winter shoe selection. The more we walked around the less feeling he had in his toes.

Johnny quote of the day: "Everything is so pretty. I could live in this. I just need to figure the shoe thing out."

Today I pawned him off on my best friend here and my roommates, while I worked. He spent an hour in the MIA, which was far from enough for him. Tomorrow will be a full day: tubing at Buck Hill, Frida exhibit at the Walker, a quick jaunt through the sculpture garden, the back to the MIA, a tour of the skyway before a movie at Block E.

Filling a Niche

As a follow up to the previous entry, most Minnesotans have all of the friends they need by the time they reach my age. Friendships here were first made in high school, college or their first jobs out of school. All of which are times when you are searching for your niche in life. I met most of my longstanding friends during that same period of my life. Well - not during college, because I didn't go to school until I was well into my mid-twenties, nor have I held onto many of my friendships from high school. Only recently, thanks to MySpace, Friendster and more recently FaceBook, have I reconnected with friends from high school and below. The idea that people are into their 20s and 30s and are still close to the people they had detention with for throwing that spitball in the 10th grade is foreign to me.

Lost amongst the thousands of classmates at any of the local universities, students are eager to belong. Movies such as John Singleton's Higher Learning captured this perfectly. As a 29-year-old undergraduate student, most of my classmates are up to a decade younger than me. Reaching out to someone who has few of the same memories, pop culture references or experiences as me have proved to be fruitless.

Meeting people off strictly platonic on Craigslist has had its positive and negatives. Two of my good friends here were made on there. But I've also had even more come in and out of life in the last two years. I've posted three times now, always looking for men or women, but the responses have surprised me. Although it clearly states “Strictly Platonic,” more often that is a veiled method of searching for a date without being as forward as the M4W or W4M posts.

When the responders aren't looking to partner up, they are looking to fill a niche. As I said, most people my age have their friends, unless you fill a void that he or she's current group of friends aren't. Here's one example: I met a girl through Craigslist. We didn't have much in common, but we did enjoy each others company. But the company only had two venues that were applicable. One, we'd get coffee. Well, I'd get chai because I don't drink coffee. And two, we'd watch a movie. Usually we'd watch the movie at my place. A few times we did watch it at the theater. Each time I'd try to change our pattern I'd be rebuked. She was comfortable watching movies and getting coffee, but everything else felt off the table. Through her I was introduced to another girl. We've never hung out, but since she has seen me at First Avenue several times, I've fallen into the niche of a fellow concert attendee. We've talked about hanging out a few times, always about future shows.

A couple weeks back, my friend Kathy expressed frustration with being delegated to a niche. I remained quiet listening to her vent. Her feelings were so raw. She was so frustrated. I’d felt these feelings myself. I’d expressed these same words. That moment you realize that a friendship can only go so far, that you filled a need for them, but you were not getting any closer, that moment stings like few others. Investing energy into something or someone only to realize it was all for not. I can decide whether the niche is rewarding enough, or whether I need to move on. I’ve been in both positions. I still don’t know which one is better.

Friendships and more

I've always had female friends. At that, I've always had more female friends than male friends, at a 60/40 clip. But never before have my female to male ratio been so askew. I have 6 friends here in Minneapolis. Five females and one male. The male friendship is something recent. It's never been so difficult to click with people of the same sex before. And a conversation I had today with Mike confirmed why.

Last night my friend Rebecca's band played at the Dinkytowner. I've never been the biggest fan of their music, but she's a good friend and I've seen them perform many times now. There was no way I was going to miss the CD release party.

Mike asked how last night went. I explained that it was nice seeing Rebecca, even though I'm not a fan of her band's music. He queried me on who Rebecca was, though he's met her recently, and when I explained that she was a friend, his response captured the answer to my male-male friendship struggle, "oh, your new crush."

Nope, Rebecca has never been a crush. I explained I could be friends with woman without wanting to date her. My struggle creating friendships comes down to the Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal's conversation in When Harry Met Sally. Crystal's character explained that men and woman can never be just friends. That sex will always get in the way. I just don't buy it. I know from my experiences here, though, that that train of thought is prevalent in my age bracket. I can't pretend that all Minnesotans think this way. I just don't know if that's the case. To say all of anything or even most wouldn't be accurate without more research.

But I do know that through my experiences here - on more than one occasion - men have assumed I was interested in dating them if I showed interest in building a friendship. I also know that - on even more occasions - women have also be believed I wanted to date them under the same situation. I've had to explain to both sexes that I have no interest in dating them. I'm not gay. I just don't know anyone here. And I'm capable of being friends with a female without sex getting in the way. And on two occasions, women have believed that I was gay because I didn't make a move on them when the opportunity arose. The cultural transition to Minneapolis has been more difficult than any adjustments my body has made to the weather.

I guess I could have told Mike that, "sure, Rebecca's a crush, but not in the way you think it." I crush on people - men or women - that I meet and think are amazing. They are platonic crushes, with no sexual desire behind them. Sometimes I meet someone and I think, "Wow, this person is great. We view things very similarly." I'll want to get to know them better. But this desire to learn about my new friend can be misinterpreted as non-platonic interest. This never happened in California. My feelings were never misconstrued. Someone showing interest in you as a person was flattering, but not a sign that they wanted to sleep with you.

Can men and women be just friends? From my over all experiences, yes, without a doubt. From my experiences in Minneapolis, yes, it's definitely possible but it takes more communication to lie out the ground rules of the relations.

The same can hold true for friendships between men. Making your intentions clear heads off much of the confusion that can cloud things later.

mel gibson and the pants @ nomad world pub

What Brought Me Here...

Ouch: Punched in the Chest - Yet Again.

Last night my best friend Johnny arrived from San Francisco. I did my best to prepare him for the cold he'd experience when he first stepped out of the airport. He watched yesterdays video blog and for the most part was ready - or so he thought. Driving through downtown Minneapolis was chaos. Streets seemed to be closed at every turn for snow plowing, which only delayed my picking him up.

Still 15 minutes away, Johnny calls to say he's arrived and that he feels as though he's been "punched in the chest." He goes onto ramble about this being the coldest thing he's ever experienced, will alcohol absorb differently, can we stop for long johns, if he lived here he'd drink constantly to stay warm.

I couldn't help but laugh. My friend in the car stared at me while I comforted Johnny. After pulling over at the gate and popping my trunk for Johnny's bags, with ice sealing covering my trunk, he struggled mightily, the winter sting spreading across all exposed skin, before finally getting his bags in the trunk and his body in the warm car. It reminded me of my first Minnesota winter experience three years ago. I'll never forget the burn in the pit my chest when I stepped off the plane, in awe of everything around me. In the Bay Area we had basically one season year round. Of course, there are slight variations with increased temperatures in the summer and more rain in the winter. But overall, the Bay Area does not have real seasons as we know them here. I've learned to enjoy the seasons here the longer I've been here. This past summer felt less humid and last winter felt less cold. The weather is easily manageable. It just takes a few more or few less layers.

Johnny had the basic top layers covered, but his hands were still exposed, and Johnny's lungs burned with the temperature flirting with below 0. After brief introductions between Kathy and Johnny, his first words in the car were, "I need some long johns." This afternoon was spent searching for long johns at Costco. before finding them at the Twin Cities own Target. We should have gone to target first, but Johnny's second comments also motivated the trip to Costco. "If I lived here, I'd drink whiskey all the time. Do people here drink a lot?"

Whiskey now in hand, new thick socks providing one more layer his pair of classic Converse tennis shoes and long johns protecting his lower regions, Johnny is venturing out tonight again with me for Mel Gibson & The Pants, a Twin Cities favorite of mine, at Nomad World Pub, which Rob van Alstyne previews here.

Show and Tell: Winter Clothes

Never Again

Yesterday while on campus for a doctors appointment I got my free Influenza shot. Flu shots are new to me. Last year was the first time I'd ever received one. I don't know if they were just less prevalent in the Bay Area. I don't ever remember being offered a free flu shot. I also don't remember shots at Target in California. Maybe they were there, and I was just oblivious to them. Two winters ago I did not receive a shot, and about half through the winter the worst flu I've ever experienced hit me. I was out for a week, mostly unconscious, when not projectile vomiting. I wasn't going to repeat that same mistake and have been quick to get my shots.

Yesterday I was suffering all day of the post-shot flu, cloudy head, but by bed time I was feeling much better. Today I learn that the reason the flu is so common in Minnesota is because it's so damn cold. The NYTimes states:

“Influenza virus is more likely to be transmitted during winter on the way to the subway than in a warm room,” said Peter Palese, a flu researcher who is professor and chairman of the microbiology department at Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York and the lead author of the flu study.

We don't have the subway here, and the light rail is nowhere near as warm as the subway, but we do know cold. Although yesterdays grogginess was a discomfort, I'm a big fan of flu shots for all.

Introduction and Al Franken in NYTimes.

Frost-Bite is a long time coming. I've been in Minneapolis for sometime now, and my keen observation skills are best served with a forum to explore them in. Frost-Bite will allow me an opportunity to share what exactly it is I see around me: my frustrations and my appreciation of MN culture. I carry my BlackBerry Pearl everywhere I go, and with it I'm a equipped with a perfect camera phone to chronicle the World around me.

In Frost-Bite you'll find photos taken with Pearl - who has taken on an identity of herself, and at times, I'll probably refer to her as such - and a PowerShot a95. Frost-bite will also include video-blogs and short videos that should candidly capture some highlights. I plan on profiling and featuring some of my current favorite and newly discovered jewels of the Midwest. My writings won't be strictly limited to, but will emphasize Twin Cities culture. I know I spend far too much time in the Cities and not enough time exploring what else is offered out in Minnesota and the Midwest.

Frost-Bite will also include concert and music reviews of local artists and visiting musicians to the Twin Cities. Minnesotans love all aspects of the arts. My biggest joy in the Twin Cities is the fine art scene: newly released independent films or re-released classics, all genres of music performed, and theater. Although I do enjoy visual arts and museums, I'm not very educated in the subject. Basically, I know what I do and don't like.

People are really my thing, so a lot of my commentary will be made regarding interpersonal and larger social interactions. Some will be vents. Please don't take offense to these. Most will be thought out political and sociological commentary on my experience and observations. I may juxtapose article from afar and the many quality local publications.

Now that we know a little more about what to expect, I hope what I enjoy what I have to say, at the very least it will make you think, and what better way to start than my thoughts on the NYTimes article on Al Franken's candidacy for the Norm Coleman's United States Senate seat.

Al Franken's candidacy has been intriguing to me since he first announced last February. Beyond his obvious progressive-bent politics, I just don't know what he stands for, and I'm not sure most Minnesotans do, either and that is why he's spent so much time introducing himself to Minnesota this year. Franken is still viewed as a Minnesotan, more brash than most, but he is still one of their own. I know from experience this means a lot to people here. Just bring up the Coen Brothers, Bob Dylan or F. Scott Fitzgerald and you can't help but be inundated with the résumé of the local hero. Never mind that both Fitzgerald and Dylan hit the road and rarely looked back.

Norm Coleman will never seem to be viewed as a Minnesotan by the masses, but his formally centrist leading Republican politics plays well with the middle of the road state political spectrum. Now that Coleman's politics have become synonymous with George Bush's failed politics he is more than ever vulnerable to more left leaning politicians. If Franken is able to connect with Minnesotans as a true down home Minnesotan and not a Hollywood Big Shot, I think he has a great chance. His brashness is a bit extreme and outside the norms here, but his passion for helping the common man finds a home in the hearts of most everyone I've met in Minnesota. As I said, I'm still not sure what I think about what the details of how he is going to help the common man, but I look forward to learning more in the coming months. I do know I enjoyed Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot. I'm keeping an eye on the other candidates and will be sure to have later entries exploring them.

Welcome!