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