Day 49 - The No Gas Adventure

Thursday, February 18th (noted, since I don't always write entries the same day I visit the bar)

First, a little house cleaning: I've fixed the day counts from the last couple of days. Everything should be sequential now, with no "Day 44" repeats.

:)

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Getting to Jack's Bar & Lounge would seem a simple task, or so you'd think. 

• Get off train.
• Check out interesting people (and look for beautiful women, to be honest) exiting train.
• Smell the air for familiar and unfamiliar scents -train exhaust and perfume- and to check the temperature and any hints at the state of the weather; also pinch ears shut as you walk on the island between two loud-as-thunder trains idling on either side of you before you make it to the ramp and exit tunnel that leads under the islands and to the train station proper.
• Walk down the ramp, trying to keep up with the flow of people (why in such a hurry?), listen for the click-click-click of someone walking a bicycle close behind you (jerks, they're supposed to wait), then back up the ramp into the heart of the train station; continue watching people (do I recognize anyone from this morning - if yes, are they in the same mood?) and checking out the women.
• Exit the train station and walk to the truck, dodging buses (God if even one of those bus drivers ever loses it then we're all of us dead), cars zipping in as though they were being driven by valets eager for a good tip --when really it's just the husband or wife or significant other of a fellow train-goer who also happens to be rushed-- then unlock the door to my totally awesome, smells-like man truck once I reach it.
• Drive to the best bar on the North American continent: Jack's Bar & Lounge.

Simple, right?

Aha! Not so!

For today I was running on empty. The little, yellow-orange "you're about to run out of gas, you fool!" light blinked on as soon as I started my glorious truck. No problem, I thought, I'll just drive to the gas station on Coleman. I fished for my wallet inside my backpack, took it out and it felt pretty light. I opened it and found no debit card inside, no gas card inside and no cash inside.

This is my I'm not in charge of the nuclear weapons.

What to do, though? I looked up from my belongings in the passenger seat of my truck and searched the facade of apartments on the other side of the train tracks for an answer, but all the hanging signage encouraged me to do was take out a lease that I couldn't afford.

I cursed myself for idling my about-to-run-out-of-gas truck while my brain searched for a solution at far fewer cycles per second than my computer runs at home, put my truck in reverse and backed out of my space.

Another curse escaped my mouth: as I pulled out of the parking lot onto Cahill I found myself at the wrong end of a line consisting of five cars and a bus, all waiting for the light at Santa Clara Street to turn green. The big screen signage on the Shark Tank distracted me and I didn't discover that the low-fuel light had gone away until we got the green arrow and I turned left on Santa Clara.

Hrmm...maybe I could make it to the bank? I resolved to drive to the WAMU-turned Chase [i.e., the "we suck at banking and lose your deposits in our ATMs" Chase - with apologies to any Chase employees reading] at the Coleman shopping center, then either drive (if the gas gods smiled on me) or hoof it to the Valero gas station further up Coleman.

Down the hill and under the train tracks bridge, then back up and a quick right turn onto Stockton Avenue. I panicked for a second as the warning light came right back on when I went down that hill and it stayed on for half my trip up Stockton, but then the light went away and thankfully none of the street lights intercepted me before I made it to Taylor.

I hit the CD player and punched up some Lamb of God. Things always go better with Lamb of God.

Once at the bank, I parked on as flat a surface as I could find and went inside. I felt silly not having a debit card, but my ID served well enough and I got to fill out a withdrawal slip for the first time in awhile. All of the women behind the counter were extremely pretty and helpful. Way better than an ATM experience, I decided.

Cash in hand, I returned to my thirsty truck, apologized to it as I got in the driver's seat and promised we'd get it something to drink if it would only take us both far enough up the street to the gas station.

The wait at the Taylor and Coleman light was the single longest wait for a light to change I've ever experienced, or so it seemed. The no-gas light was back on and seemed to glow even brighter. Unwelcome questions came to mind as my eyes darted back and forth, pacing the cars going by in the intersection and tracking the cycles of the stoplights: Did I really just sit through an entire playing of Redneck? If my truck died, could I push it the rest of the way? Did I even have a spare tank to put gas in?

Traffic stopped flowing left-right and right-left in front of me and I took my foot off the brake in anticipation....

....then slammed my foot back down again so I wouldn't hit the unmoving vehicle in front of me. People waiting for the fucking left turn arrow get to go first, after all.

After that traffic cycled through, the light turned green and I gingerly pressed down on the gas pedal (my truck is a Toyota, but I'm not part of the gas pedal recall, thank God). A few short moments later and I was at the gas station, woohoo!

My rejoicing was short lived, though. I was forced to sit half in and half out of the street, waiting for a completely full gas station to sort itself out while I blocked an ever-growing line of traffic behind me.

Fuck! My! Life! Running out of gas this close to my goal would suck beyond all comprehension, but would also be kind of funny.

Thankfully the person in front of me finished executing her sixteen point turn (it seemed like sixteen turns, but might have only been four) and got the hell out of the way. I pulled into her spot, turned my truck off and went to go pay the cashier.

[fast forward...]

Two blocks from Jack's on Taylor, I saw Mr. McBride walking up the street. I wondered if he would be going to Jack's, but he ducked into one of the corner liquor stores.

The cones in front of Happi House had rearranged themselves again, this time forming a tight path barely wide enough to fit my truck through. I parked at Happi House, gave The Rock a withering, it's-your-fault-I-almost-ran-out-of-gas look, then walked across the street to the bar under a flat sheet of iron-grey clouds.

I stepped inside to the sound of Tanisha working through a fit of coughing; the kind that sounds like someone's sick with a cold. I sat down amongst the seven men and two women at the bar, never making eye contact with her, yet she insta-served me a beer. Fucking awesome.

I told her I hope she got to feeling better. As time went by in the bar I noticed she never coughed again so it was probably something she drank as opposed to a cold. Oh well, my sentiments were sincere.

There was only one person sitting at the back-wall tables, a man whom I didn't get a good look at save to learn his attention seemed to be on the flat screen TV closest to the front entrance of the bar. I followed his line of sight and found myself observing the results of the USA vs. Norway hockey game at the Olympics (have fun, Jordan). We slaughtered Norway, 6 - 1.

Beneath the flat screen sat a couple I recognized, but whose names I forgot. I tend to see them only when Tanisha is working and they're always very nice and friendly. I've spoken to the man before about Hockey, but didn't do much more than say hello to him from across the bar tonight.

Of the four remaining TVs, three had college hoops on and one had Super Bowl replays. My attention was drawn to the later because the replay showed a balloon crash at the start of Super Bowl IV between the Chiefs and the Vikings. Some dude in a viking helmet chased his errant balloon across the field, then jumped into it just before it ran into one corner of the stadium.

I'd written, "lolz no nipples were exposed in the crashing of his balloon" into my phone at some point during the replay, but I can't remember why.

The Olympics coverage switched over to curling (I know too much about curling now) and I saw that the scowling bottle of Patron Orange that sat on the center shelf overlooking the bar had been turned around. It seemed far less fierce now that the logo was showing.

A plastic bottle of Organic Original Green Leaf Sweat Tea sat on one of the rubber serving mats directly in front of me at the bar. Must be Tanisha's, I thought.

The bar-goers sampled pink tequila and bought rounds of Gentlemen Jack's and Woodford Reserve. Outside the clouds had darkened and stubbornly refused to let any sunset light get past them. It simply got dark outside, without any real transition from day to night.

The air smelled good as it flowed into the bar. Not long after Jason arrived and ordered not a Red Stripe (his usual) but a Jack and coke.

This prompted a friendly "WTF?" from Tanisha, which caused the female half of the couple on the short side of the bar to ask, "What does WTF mean?"

Adults live such sheltered lives.

Jason shrugged and went back outside. My beer done, I grabbed my coat and put it on as I walked outside, chuckling inwardly and not waiting to hear Tanisha's explanation. Jason was already on his phone so I sort of half-waved/said hello to him as I walked under very dark clouds to my truck, then drove home.

See you on Friday for a much less stressful trip to Jack's!

Day 48 - Beer Cures Ocular Migraines....

...but only if you buy the beer from Jack's Bar & Lounge.

That's what I did, at any rate. Throw some fish crackers and trail mix in a bowl to go along with it and a trip to Jack's is a lot like a trip to see the doctor (paging doctor BuPane!) except the medecine doesn't taste bad.

PG&E had all of the south side of Taylor blocked off so there was no parking in the sweet spot for me at the end of my drive to Jack's from the train station after work.

I had to drive down to 5th and loop around the back side of Happi House to park in their lot, then walk back up 5th to the intersection at Taylor and cross the street to the Cielito Lindo Restaurant & Bar before turning west and walking back down the block to Jack's.

The sound of dump truck engines and backhoes could be heard the whole way.

I saw a man in a white shirt on the phone outside. His dog(?) was leashed to the pole next to the Jack's sign outside and he said, "What's up?" as I walked by. I said hello back and went inside.

Aimee was tending bar and I didn't see anyone sitting at the tables as I grabbed the last spot along the bar near the door and took a seat.

The couple to my left asked how I was doing (can't remember their names atm, though I've met 'em before and they're pretty cool) and I told them I was suffering from an ocular migraine, but other than that I was fine. That sort of killed conversation and I felt bad for that. I wanted to chat.

I ordered up a PBR from Aimee and asked for some goldfish, at which point she offered up some of her trail mix. I said yes to it all and busied myself with salty food consumption while I drank my beer.

The sounds of construction worked being wrapped up for the day flowed into the bar and kind of drowned out the sound of the radio and I can't even remember what was on any of the flat screen TVs.

One customer left and soon after Wes strolled in. Aimee pointed him to the end of the bar where the newly vacant seat was at, just the other side of Dean.

About that time my beer and bar snack was done and let me tell you I felt a whole lot better. There were no more flashy, half-moon shaped slivers of light blocking out my vision and my head hardly hurt.

Fremont Matt walked in for a beer and I gave up my seat to him. We chatted for a bit and I hope his Saturday all-day BBQ goes well. Ribs always sound good.

Too bad the cheese steaks aren't being cooked over the weekends at Jack's. I'd buy one up then.

See you Thursday!

PS: It's the one year Anniversary for Hip-hop nights on Wednesday with DJ Benofficial. Jack's is doing $5 Long Islands and AMF's (not sure what those are, lolz). Gratz to DJ Benofficial, thanks for making Wednesdays awesome and for being so friendly. I heard his name on the radio the other day too. Things are looking up!

Day 47 - $3 and Out

Fastest visit to Jack's Bar & Lounge ever today. I must have been in there no more than ten or fifteen minutes total.

Just enough time for Tanisha to serve me up without my having to order (thank you!), me to pay $3 ($2 for the beer and $1 for a tip) and whatever time it took to drink it up and get back outside.

Had a quick conversation with Jason and Lisa outside -- Jason teased me for leaving so soon by asking me if I'm writing haiku now (lolz don't tempt me) and Lisa looked good as ever with Mardi Gras beads on. I told her the reason for my rush (needed to deal with a housemate issue, but more importantly needed to get home and look for a second job online) and she asked about the blog address, which Jason offered to give her.

Lisa and Jason are like rocks and I really got what I needed in those last few moments outside before I left Jack's for home.

Thanks guys.

Day 46 - Cheese Steaks and Bloody Beers

Today is noteworthy because it's Presidents Day. However today is also noteworthy because it marks a change in the hours of Jack's Bar & Lounge, which is to say Jack's is now open 11 a.m. to 2 a.m., Monday through Friday

There wasn't any talk about presidents in the bar when I was there. In fact I didn't think about presidents at all during my whole trip to and from the greatest bar ever to exist in all of space time.

Anyway, it was such a beautiful day outside and my truck was almost out of gas, so fate was practically telling me to take a walk in lieu of driving.

On my walk I noticed that many of the trees and bushes that bloomed with flowers in the first part of February were just starting to shed their petals. I could see little puddles made of flowery lavender and purple colored rain all up and down the streets that I walked past on my way to the bar.

I arrived around 3:45 pm-ish to find the bar smelling good. Aimee and Travis (kiss or otherwise fondle the cook, btw) were behind the bar and Aimee served me up a PBR. There were laptops sitting on the bar and I thought to myself this looks like an internet cafe.

I sat down at the bar next to Wes and could see a wide, flat metal grill sitting above the beer cabinet behind the bar, just opposite of where I was sitting. This, then, was the source of that awesome smell and the device that would be used to make Cheese Steaks behind the bar for the foreseeable future.

Wes ordered up a Cheese Steak and Aimee went about making Wes a bloody beer. I watched as she squeezed several lemons, pored in some spices and tabasco and mixed it with beer.

As Aimee worked I couldn't quite tell if she'd colored her hair or done something different....maybe it was how the pattern of her clothes matched her hair and mixed with the sun shining into the bar from outside such that it all combined to make her seem positively radiant (or perhaps sunny or just yellow in a good way). Her bright red lipstick somehow kept everything in focus.

Wes is a far braver man than I. They said bloody beer is good for hangovers, but I don't think I've got the fortitude to take on that kind of drink in the midst of a hangover.

Travis dropped some meat on the grill and my gut growled as the smell of cooked meat, onions and peppers drifted to my nostrils (my gut's growling again as I type). As he worked he talked with Aimee about doing summertime barbecue out on the back patio of the bar. Damn good idea if you as me.

Travis served Wes his food on a square yellow sheet of paper/plastic/something and Jason stopped by the bar not long after.

Aimee got zapped by Patrick Dempsey Cologne and soon after the innaugural Let's Smoke A Cigarette Summit was held out front of the bar. This meeting produced the historic Dempsey Truce peace agreement, binding all participating bartenders and freeing them from smelling like "an old man's balls" in the words of one bartender.

As I understand it, customers are excluded from this truce. Beware, unless old man's balls smell is your thing. ;)

My beer disappeared real fast so I said goodbye, waived to Jason as I walked past and headed for the door and a nice walk home in the sunshine.

Back to Jack's tomorrow after work!

Day 44 - F*ck V-Day Party - Now With Pictures!

The ache in my left buttock this morning was the first reminder of last night's activities at Jack's Bar & Lounge.

I like how Jess grabbed my belt loop with authority and positioned me just where she wanted me before taking a swing.

There's no need to be spanked multiple times when your paddler can hit a home run in one shot.

Back later to do a lot of writing.

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Lolz, lack of writing fail.

Thankfully Kara aka Scottsdale came through with pictures from the F*ck V-Day party, which I will happily share with you below. All pix are credited to her (I don't know how to do the C-in-a-circle yet).

The author: double-fisted sexiness.

Ras Dank: Teh Awesome

ACME

Beer Koozie in action

Sadly, there were no pictures of the Silicon Valley Roller Girls. But fear not! You to can see them up close and personal on March 6th, 2010 when you attend Malice In Wonderland.

What's this, you ask? Well, it's an action packed double header with serious women's flat track roller derby featuring the Dot Kamikazez vs. the Dockyard Derby Dames in round 1, and the Killabytes vs. the San Diego Hard Corps in round 2.

Doors open at 5:30 pm (San Jose Skate: 397 Blossom Hill Road, San Jose) and tickets are only $10 bucks ($5 for kiddies) and the proceeds for this bout of action go to the Sacred Heart Community Service. A worthy cause!

You can even purchase tickets in advance at Jack's.

:)

Day 42 - Shark's Win!

Quote of the day:
Every fight is a good fight when you are a cannibal.
-barfly TV

The sweet spot was open again so I grabbed it real quick. I stepped out of my truck and inhaled Thursday's sunset air, then I walked out of the parking lot shared by El Tarasco and Foster's Freeze and on up the sidewalk to the light at 4th and Taylor.

On the other side Der Wienerschnitzel was packed. A little girl, no more than a toddler, had lips stained the color of blue Kool-Aid and was busy rooting around in the planters on the corner border of DW while her brothers and sisters (?) played on the tables and ate their food.

I walked past a white Honda Civic with handicap plates parked in front of Amy's Beauty Salon and made my way inside Jack's Bar & Lounge. There were about nine people inside, three women and six men.

I'd been listening to the Shark's game on the drive to Jack's and the score was tied 1-1 with the first period coming to a close. By the time I sat down at the bar I saw the Shark's had scored with just seconds left in the period to go up 2-1 on the most hated Detroit Red Wings.

Tanisha insta-served me a beer (you rock, dude!) and I felt like a dork for thanking her like three times really fast because I didn't want to forget to say thanks like I did the other day.

Feeling a little self-conscious, I decided it was probably better not to speak for a few minutes so I spent some time looking at the back wall of the bar to see if I could find anything different about it during the first period intermission.

Very first thing I noticed was the metal pail to the left of the tikki man in a barrel (ask a bartender to put the tikki man on the bar and remove the barrel....reminds me sometimes of what it was like to be thirteen lolz). This pail is used by Jack's bartenders to hold miscellaneous odds and ends such as a long Bic lighter, a pack of Camels and a pair of scissors.

What I'd never noticed before was the Bad Apfel logo printed on the pail, with the words "How about a tip you bastard?" printed on it in apple green.

I got this feeling like someone was seriously scowling at me and I looked up at the glass shelves and saw a pair of orange colored eyes looking out from under green eyebrows and a mass of white lip pulled back to expose a set of long, stiletto-thin black teeth.

Then I realized it was just the orange liqueur bottle with two oranges high up on the label and a rather large upc barcode at the bottom.

I took another sip of beer and decided that was enough looking around for one day.

I stepped outside and saw that Amy and her helper dude were busy inside the Salon. I must have been so focused on the car parked in front that I didn't even see them inside when I walked into the bar earlier.

The smell of Der Wienerschnitzel carried over to my nose and I decided to splurge on a couple hot dogs (lolz that sounds wrong, doesn't it?). The sun had fallen behind Chris' Service Center and I walked back to Jack's just as the tall DW lights came on overhead.

A Honda Accord materialized in front of the bar while I was gone and I tried to pick out the vehicle's owner as I dropped my food off at my spot at the bar and walked to the restrooms in back. I saw a Miller keg on my right, just beyond the hallway entrance where Beer Pong is played (the official WSOBP rules are posted just above where that Miller keg was at too).

After washing my hands I noticed there were no hand towels (haha isn't that how it always works?) but it's no problem 'cause I've got pants. I told T about the towels on my way back out then took a seat and started eating.

The game still hadn't started back up so I contented myself with watching Barfly TV.

The game finally started and I noticed that my moustache is long enough to catch beer foam. That was enough to keep me occupied through the whole second period of scoreless hockey.

As second intermission got underway two men came in smelling like bathroom soap and kitchen herbs. Then another guy came in, stood near the center table and took in all of Aimee's pieces, then he turned around and looked at the TVs, then he looked around the bar, then he walked out of the bar without buying anything (you can see a lot in the mirrored glass behind the bar--try not to focus on any one thing and then it's cool because you actually see everything).

I wonder if the glowering orange eyes scared him off?

I went outside and the guy walked back and forth in front of the bar a few times like he was trying to make a decision and I realized the Honda wasn't there anymore, then he stopped at the entrance to look inside, then he walked around me to the back patio/parking lot. What the hell is he looking for, anyway?

As I was writing notes into my phone, he rode out on a squeaky motorcycle and gunned it up Taylor.

If you've ever seen the movie Collateral then you know how awesome nighttime can be in a city. After indecisive-motorcycle-guy took off I felt a subtle warmth in the air and looked up from writing my notes to see dog walkers everywhere, the sky a deep blue-black to the east and glowy blue-green to the west and the 61 Piedmont bus stopped at Foster's then headed east up Taylor leaving it's thick exhaust smell on the air as the breeze blew my way.

I like this time of night just after the sun has set and all the lights come on because it's electric and loaded with energy and it feels like anything is possible. I hoped that feeling would translate to a rare win for the Shark's at Detroit as I walked back inside.

The game started up and a tall, white haired Blue Moon sat down to my left. Thick, not quite horn rimmed glasses made of black plastic were perched on his nose and he wore a dark suit jacket that was the same color as the eastern sky outside over a white long sleeve shirt lined in pairs of thin, faded blue stripes. He did not watch hockey but instead watched basketball and I wasn't pleased with him for doing that lolz.

Behind us the bar tables were filling up and god damn if Detroit doesn't score a goal in the third period to tie it up 2-2. I felt a chill behind me as a tall woman in a long black coat walked in and I realized things must have cooled down outside because she carried the air in with her like it was an extra coat.

I think it's neat when that happens because you don't even have to see or hear someone to sense they are there.

Amy from next door walked in to the bar for a sec and I went outside to check the weather. The wind was blowing faster and I felt discouraged by the tie score. The 61 bus drove past but thankfully didn't stop and as I looked to my right I noticed the airplanes were taking off into the wind. Normally aircraft land in that direction but not tonight.

The owner of the Honda walked very carefully out of Amy's on crutches made to support crippled legs. Her hair looked smooth and textured and was beautiful in the way a woman's hair looks when she's just come from a salon. The glint of the yellow street lights played all along her hair as the woman moved methodically around the front of her car to the driver side door, unlocked it and slowly lowered herself into the seat. Her hair reminded me of my mom's hair.

I wondered for a moment how she could drive, but then remembered seeing a film (yes, film) in elementary school of a woman with no arms who drove using her feet. I was sure the woman in the Civic could manage OK.

Old Blue Moon was one and out. He left the bar and walked west up Taylor to some unknown destination.

Back in the bar the game was back on and the third period was going strong. Just past where Old Blue Moon sat was another guy working on his third Sierra Nevada of the night. From the sound of it I think he wanted Detriot to win so Three Sierras is Enemey #1 in my book.

A pair of guys walked in and one asked T to put the fee to get his buddy's card back (which he'd left at the bar some other night) on the new tab he opened up.

Just then (Ryan) Clowe and some useless Red Wing named Ericsson got into a brawl on the ice. Ericsson fought like a wimpy European and in my not so humble opinion Clowe kicked his ass. I cheered for Clowe and dropped my phone at the same time, but kept it from falling through my five hole onto the floor.

Not long after that the period ended with the score tied and a five minute overtime got under way. I agreed with the man to my right that Olympic hockey is going to be the shit this year. Since there are so many Shark's playing in the Olympics us Shark's fans are gauranteed to have someone to root for on just about every game that's televised.

The five minute overtime ended fast with the score still tied. Then the Sharks won it in the shootout woohoo fuck yeah! Nabby gets the record for the most consecutive road wins by an NHL goalie (11 wins) and I remember thinking to myself it was fucking sweet he got the record in Detriot.

The crew of people at the end of the bar suggested they ought to have a footrail build party at Jack's (for those of you who've not been to Jack's, you should know the bar has no rail or foot rest). I think there's was a great idea.

Outside for the last time that night, I met a man from Ohio. He told me about how Ohio is not Kansas-east as I thought of it with fields and pastures and farmland, but is instead quite heavily forrested. He grew up in a town nestled into a valley where three rivers converge. They know something about flooding where he comes from.

He told me stories about the Burning Man festival. One was about friends having a tea party in the back of a jeep. Basically they cranked the steering wheel and tied it in place, but a brick on the gas pedal and rode around in back getting drunk and stoned as the jeep made endless wide right turns in the desert sun.

He noticed I was smelling the air and we talked about crazy Ohio and Colorado weather. Confident in our skillz, we decided it would not rain tonight.

I left Jack's Bar & Lounge not soon after. There were no longer any cars parked in front of the bar that could interrupt my path to my truck.

The next day I got to thinking about how how paying attention to the different conversations at the bar is like focusing on a particular section of an orchestra.

Tonight the talk of birthday planning would have been the brass; the talk of construction work, winning bids, contracts and TI's (tenant improvement) was the woodwinds; the sound of the Shark's game was the percussion, with The Voice Of The San Jose Sharks --Dan Rusanowsky-- as the principal violinist.

I suppose that would also make Tanisha the conductor.

See you tomorrow for the Friday symphony at Jack's!

Day 41 - Things Made Out Of Bone - 2.10.2010

The sidewalk all up and down Taylor from 4th Street to 5th Street is tore up and filled in with temporary asphault (looks like giant troughs of caviar in the sunset light) and there are large, square shaped iron slabs covering up holes underneath. Orange cones are stacked neatly by telephone poles, waiting to be used again tomorrow when construction starts back up.

Fortunately Jack's Bar & Lounge is on the other side of the street.  ;)

After parking at Foster's Freeze again I took the time to look over this old Chevy truck that was painted a very bright shade of pink. I don't know how the hell that truck managed to pull off a masculine look, but it did.

I puzzled over this as I crossed the street to Jack's from the roughed up side of the block. I walked by Der Wienerschnitzel and saw this guy again who's there at least once a week, dressed in full on winter coat, hood and gloves. Every time I've seen him he's sitting at one of the side tables facing Taylor and reads a book with its pages held in place by two sturdy metal clamps, and always has a coffee (tea?) on his right hand side. I never see any DW food at his table.

A PG&E dump truck and trailer combo with a backhoe chained down on it rumbled by as I looked at the wall that is the west side of the building that houses Jack's and Amy's Beauty Salon, which is painted over in patches to cover up gang graffiti. I wondered if Amy would consent to having her wall done up like the Jack's (east-facing) wall is and if that might do something to mitigate the problem as I walked in the front door of the bar (see this link for photo on Yelp!).

Inside Aimee was tending. Must have been elven people there besides me.  I said hello to Wes, Stephanie and the always energetic Holly, then took a seat at the bar and ordered up a PBR.

Wes, Holly and Stephanie left before all that long and I noticed Aimee was wearing a striped pink sweater whose colors perfectly matched those of the Victoria's Secret bag on the counter behind the bar, save that Aimee's stripes were horizontal and the bag's were vertical.

I'm not sure how we got on the subject, but all of a sudden Aimee and I were talking about friends of hers who'd spent New Years in Czechoslovakia (thank you, spell check). Over there you could buy alcohol from street vendors like you'd buy a hot dog in New York.

The kicker was her friends went to a castle where way back in the day the crypts below ran out of room faster than the dead could be intered, so the locals opted to make candelabras and chairs and whatnot out of the bones from the excess corpses. The way she told it, Aimee's friends said to her the place smelled just like you'd expect death to smell.

This guy came in later on and I got him up to speed on the creepy castle conversation. He responded by mentioning how Hitler had used human hair for lamp shades and as stuffing in the very first Volkswagens. I'm totally not googling that because it's too awesome a story to fact check.

Even crazier: I was on the phone later that night and told a friend the castle story, then she responded with the whole Hitler-Volkswagen thing....dude, twice in one night! Crazy, creepy and awesome.

All this time the Black Crows and Johnny Cash were playing and now that I think about it, it's funny how that music totally fit the conversations going on in the bar. Go figure.

I went outside for some fresh air and noticed the traffic was still real heavy on Taylor after sunset. Another dude came out with his cell phone glued to his ear and was halfway through a food order as he stopped to light a cigarette. Cigarette smoke was already thick in the air but I couldn't place the source and the wind/pressure/whatever must have shifted because all of a sudden it was like Jack's bar exhaled and I could totally smell the bar interior as I stood outside.

Anyway food-ordering-guy didn't stay at the bar all that long after he finished his call.

Back inside I sat down at my spot at the bar and noticed that from where I was at I could see all eleven of Aimee's pieces on the wall behind me in the mirrored glass. Was kinda cool to take it all in at once like that.

Keith -whom I'd met the last Sunday night after the Super Bowl ended- came over to say hello. He was hanging out at the bar with a buddy of his. I should have gone over to introduce myself but I didn't for some reason.

Keith told me about his idea for a kickball team he wants to put together. It'd be called "Just For Kicks" and have uniforms with "JFK High" on the front and everyone's player name on the back would be "Kennedy", which reminded me of how all the bank robbers in the movie Inside Man called each other by variations of the name Steve.  Dude, where do I sign up?

After talking with Aimee about it, I'm writing all the Jack's links on future posts from this one forward so they point to Jack's Facebook page instead of their MySpace page. The Facebook page for Jack's has a schedule of all their upcoming events and better fits the type of good people that come to the bar.

You'll need a Facebook account to view their page, but signing up for Facebook is easy peasy.

Thanks Aimee as always for the excellent service and for the practical advice. Have a fun trip, too!

See you tomorrow at Jack's!

Day 40 - Woohoo! I Like Jack's Visit Numbers That Are Divisible By 10

I'd like to take a moment to thank everyone who's helped to keep me on my feet this year (especially you, Mom!) and I'd also like to thank my good friend Sugi for pushing me to get out of the house a year and a half ago and find my way to Jack's Bar & Lounge.

Which is to say a man who doesn't count the women in his life as treasures is a fool. Wish I'd have learned that lesson sooner, but there's no way I'm forgetting it now.

The sun was still up when I made my way to Jack's today.

I parked in the Foster's Freeze lot this time since it's easier to get to when you're headed east on Taylor like I was. I like finding my way to Jack's after work. Bit of a different crowd....more of a work-a-day feel to the people and I like that.

I stepped out of my truck and noticed the orange tint to the clouds as the sun began to set (orange clouds are good indication of why God loves the Denver Broncos, by the way). The sound of construction work winding down carried to my ears from somewhere up 6th Street. Two little old ladies, looking very colorful by way of their red lipstick, blue and red pants and white polka dot shirts under rain coats were sitting on my side of the Foster's lot, sharing one of the little tables while they had a bite to eat.

Since there was so much traffic (and because I didn't want to risk getting run over by someone busy texting in lieu of driving) I chose to cross the street at the light on Taylor and 4th. While I waited for the light to change, I saw a woman in dark gray sweat pants walking a small dog (about as big as a house cat). The dog balked when the woman tried to cross the street, so she picked her dog up and carried it across instead.

I thought to myself: Who's in charge here, exactly?

Not having anyone to pick me up and carry me, I was forced to walk myself across the street and make my own way into the bar.

I saw a nice looking Ford Mustang parked in front of Jack's. I like that car a whooooole bunch.

The owner of said vehicle and several other people were inside. I walked up to the bar and said hello to Jason on my left.

Tanisha served me up a beer real quick and damnit if I didn't forget to say thank you. So: Thank You Tanisha. I'm sorry I let myself get distracted.

My distractor (just made a word up there, call Merriam-Webster for the 2011 Edition) -the aforementioned Jason- gave me some good advice right off the bat. Something to the effect of, "Dude, get rid of the codenames.”

I thought about it and agreed with him. So, no more codenames for peole from Jack's, save for those that want them, for people I don't quite know yet and whenever I feel it's best to use them.

Thank you also Jason for reading each day and for mentioning that the blog helps you to keep up with things going on at the bar when you're not there.

Jason said a bunch of other stuff but truth be told it was kind of fast and I missed it. His offering for a quote of the day, for example.

What I do remember talking with him about was:

• My beard and when I decided to grow it out (it's a Shark's playoff beard, grown in anticipation/expectation of many playoff wins and a Stanly Cup appearance, started November-ish of last year).
• Beard genetics. Lolz I may have gotten the better beard genes, but something tells me Jason got the bigger penis. ;)
• Jimi Hendrix. Jason told me how Jimi Hendrix was very sensitive of his voice, so in the song Crosstown Traffic he used a kazoo of all things to help cover his voice up. I totally had no idea.
• The power of learning Hendrix tunes. Now I want to hear Jason play sometime.
• Whether the dude to Jason's right really made his first ever visit to Der Wienerschnitzel today or not.

On the flat screens and starting on my right was Barfly TV on screen 1, a replay of the Super Bowl on screen 2, Men's Basketball - Tennessee vs. Vanderbilt on #3 and #4, and lastly CSN Bay Area sports on the TV closest to the door.

Just Breathe by Pearl Jam was playing about then.

Not much else I remember about today save for talking with Grant outside (he likes to push me around, that Grant) and the man hug we gave each other that Tanisha teased us about. Oh, Ed aka God was there and reminded me his birthday is coming up this Saturday and the party should run parallel with the F*U VD party for the Silicon Valley Roller Girls at Jack's.

Talk about a true test of one's bar skills!

I left Jack's thinking it felt good to have my happy hour confidence back, and to be at Jack's then and not later at night.

See you tomorrow.

Day 39 - Wes Cuts In On Doug (In A Good Way)

I pulled in to the Happi House parking lot on Monday night and noticed my mortal enemy (The Rock; who incidentally happens to be of the opinion that it had the claim on that name way before Alcatraz stole it) was blocked out by a white car in the adjacent parking space near the Taylor street entrance to the restaurant.

I backed into a space way over on the other side of the lot just as the 68 bus stopped to disgorge some of its occupants.

I saw a man in a very nice leather coat, smart looking hat, glasses and matching shoes walk through the parking lot with a plastic grocery bag in one hand and a black acoustic guitar in the other while a slow drizzle of rain fell from the sky.

I've ridden on a lot of busses in my time, but I've never seen a well dressed man with a guitar and no case on a bus before. It sorta hurt to see that guitar get wet.

I watched him make his way around the back of the restaurant, then disappear somewhere down 5th Street.

As I stepped out of my truck, I saw not one but two big trucks parked at and near Jack's. I like it when I recognize people's vehicles: major foreshadowing for who's inside the bar.

The rain picked up a bit as I j-walked accross the street. I though this guy in a(nother) big truck was slowing down to let me cross, but as it turns out he was ignoring the road so he could text while driving.

Lolz you know they're close when you can see phone glow on their downturned face as they pass by.

Inside Jack's Bar & Lounge, the bar was not all that packed. Aimee was tending and I think there were like eight people (three women, five men) in attendance.

I noticed there were small business card sized....er, cards underneath each of Aimee's art pieces with her name in large print and the name of each piece underneath. Serendipity is the name for my favorite of the bunch and I think it fits just right. I still can't remember if that's the name Grant picked out for it or not (see, ACME? I don't remember everything that happens at the bar).

I said hello to Wes and Doug and sat down at the corner of the bar. Wes came over and took a seat next to me. We chatted for a bit about what it's like to have a house-full of rock band dudes for roommates. Then talk shifted to Texas and where we were all from.

The man to my right had a voice that to my admitedly less than perfect ears sounded a whole bunch like Captain Robau of the USS Kelvin (see the first part of the latest Star Trek movie). We're not talking accent so much as the robust, deep sort of pitch (tone?) of his voice.

Anyway, this man's name was Anurag and he's from India. I told him about my blog and my mission to hit Jack's every day this year. He gave me the OK to mention him.

It's worth noting that I almost didn't get to meet Anurag, which is to say I count him lucky to be alive since his first ever mosh pit experience was at a Metallica concert some four years ago. According to Anurag he was more or less forced into joining the crowd without being warned that a mosh pit was going to form around him.

Anurag and I talked about learning new languages. I'm learning bits of Nepali from my coworker, Anurag knows some German (Ramstein rules!) and is learning Spanish.

He made a good point about how English has many words so you sort of have to describe everything, whereas with Spanish you can say a lot with fewer words. I also liked his point about how learning a language is kind of pointless without also learning something of the culture that language inhabits.

After catching some fresh air outside, I went back in to find Doug at the jukebox. Doug already had a good set going and returned to the jukebox to load up some more songs when Wes jumped in to add Corpus Cristi Bay by Robert Earl King to a mix that already included music by Tom Waits, Willie Nelson, Joe Cocker and Stevie Ray Vaughn.

Now see here's why I like Jack's, because I learn stuff. I did not know, for example, that Joe Cocker was an Englishman, which totally surprised me. Were it not for Doug, I'd have lived a life bereft of this fact.

I liked how Doug related that the first time he ever heard Cocker (some 40 years ago) he thought he was listening to a black man from the south.

About the time Shannon and Lisa showed up I was ready to depart Jack's.

I did notice signage up on the walls for the F*ck V-Day Party at Jack's on February 13th at 8 pm, hosted by none other than the Silicon Valley Roller Girls (a veritable legion of Goddesses, if you ask me).

Should be fun!

Super Bowl Sunday and the Relay That Wasn't

Quote of the day:
As soon as Al Davis dies, we'll win the Superbowl.
-Scuba Steve's friend

So I keep trying to get down to business and write this entry, but I'm continually being distraced by Blaise K's photostream on Flickr. I can just look at the photo of the dude wearing a "Enjoy Vagina" t-shirt and laugh and laugh.

Must focus, grasshopper.

M'kay...the first thing I learned out on the back patio of Jack's Bar & Lounge on Super Bowl Sunday is that the three brightly colored drinks that Rina served to a customer on Day 34 were called a Stop Light, i.e., red, yellow and green.

I thought they were an on the spot reggae theme, but I was sorta wrong there. Thank you Ras Dank for clearing that up.

I enjoyed sitting with two very lovely laides (Drew Barrymore and Marilyn Monroe) underneath the new awning to watch the first half of the game on a flat screen. It brought back memories of my first super bowl at Jack's one (two?) years ago. First time I saw Jeff, then.

The hot dogs were the first off the grill and tasted awesome. Marilyn's lab Holly was a blast too. That dog had an endless amount of energy and would make a great soccer goalie, in my opinion.

At halftime I was selected to be a coach for the relay race, but it never happened despite Rina's concerted efforts to single handedly build the race course, find participants and coaches and walk us through the obstacles.

My team would have been called Team Awesome. And we would have won, just because of our team name. Oh well, maybe next year.

I met several new people today, including:

• Dean's brother who was wearing a sling --wouldn've made a fine coach for the relay too, since you only need like one arm to crack the whip-- but who didn't appear to appreciate it when I pointed this fact out to him
• Wes from Texas --Wes was cooking up a storm at Jack's, along with Grant and Dean. Thank you Wes for sharing the free food and for reminding me what it's like to eat spicey Texas style corn on the cob, shrimp and polish sausage. If you need a ride to or from home again just let me know. 
• Scuba Steve; a tall, big man with a very nice Cowboys hat
• Keith, who says him and his boys roll in to Jack's because this is the first bar in his life that feels like home and people aren't fronting; there's a good mix of races and cultures at Jack's and he likes it here (so do I). I thought Keith was Philipino but he's of Thai origin. My bad.
• Nino and Lisa; friends of Chriss Burkhardt and Deborah --it was a pleasure to sit with you for a few songs and watch Chris play, Deborah, thanks for introducing me to your friends.
• Al, who wore a big 49ers sweater and was put on a water diet real quick when he came in to Jack's. I liked talking with Al about old school hip hop, Snoop Dog, Dr. Dre and what it was like to roll around in Impalas that were as wide as boats. Yes, this author has done that, and in style too.
• Moses, who's convinced the game of football is rigged. He lost $500 a piece to two of his friends on the Super Bowl. But he still gives it up to the Saints.
• One-Two (Ed aka God told me his name was Pablo, but it wasn't), who's a member of the Soul Brothers motorcycle club and who taught me about his club's coat of arms (my words, not sure what he called it): the orange means international, the two crossed fists (one white with black lines, the other black with white lines) show that there's no racial exclusion, the green U over the fists means both growth and universal unity and the "MC" means both motorcycle club and man's club. I remember him saying, "You can't go wrong with black and chrome on a Harley."

I'd like to thank everyone who didn't run for the hills when I mentioned the blog and those of you who gave me permission to mention our conversations in same.

....

OK back for more.

Hrm...I remember the three lovely bartenders were wearing referee style outfits. Two in striped black and white skirts and one in shorts. I also remember wondering whose idea it was to give the outright loudest person in the bar a whistle? ;)

I can't remember who else besides me wanted the Saints to win. I recall Tanisha did, but anyone else....?

So after giving Wes a ride home I came back to Jack's figuring I'd stay to talk with Eric aka ACME and James aka Kla-Klow Bang-Bang! for a little while, then go home.

As it turns out, I stayed until about 1:30 a.m.

Chris Burkhardt came in with Deborah and looked quite pleased that the Saints won. He had celebratory beads on and said he didn't have an actual Peyton Manning voodoo doll but he used an imaginary one during the game.

I chatted with Deborah a bit and really liked watching Chris play from the table closest to the ATM machine and Jukebox. From that angle you can see all of Chris, watch his hands move back and forth on his steel guitar and see the small yellow and red LED readouts on his gear move up and down as he plays. He sounds better too.

I saw an older man who wore a wide brimmed hat and leather jacket and I think he looks like a barber named Carlos from Morgan Hill that I used to visit but I never found the time to introduce myself to him. He sure looked cool though.

When Chris played Big Boss Man and was getting all greasy on the harmonicaI remember two people walking outside to call friends and tell them they were at Jacks and they should come down.

After that song was over I stepped outside to see stars poking out from behind the clouds and the sky was a dirty dark blue but not yet black. I watched a Jersey Shore wannabee walk out of Jack's with his friend, bar glass in hand, to a Hummer parked accross the street. Douchebag.

Inside Chris was explaining that the Faydedo (spelling it like it sounds here) means God's Day but in cajun terms it means having a party.

....lolz, OK time to pause yet again. I'll wrap this up tomorrow (I hope). I still haven't gotten to the thank yous (to Chris for the Makter's Mark shots and especially Bang-Bang! for the endless beers and all the damn fun we had) and the story of how one bartender can defuse an argument between like eight rowdy females without breaking a sweat.

Heh...too much to write. Let's just end it with a special thank you to Katie for reading the blog and for your kind words, your encouragment and praise.

Day 37 - Friendly Edits

It finally happened.

I came in to Jack's Bar & Lounge tonight and heard from two different people on errors of assumption (yep, that makes me the arse) I'd made in previous blog posts.

Errors aren't good. If I'm not careful, I could spread misinformation about people and I sure as hell do not want to be doing that. The lesson here is I need to ask more questions and get my shit straight before setting something down in writing.

The good news, though, is that this means people are reading the blog.

The corrections are as follows:

• Matt the bartender is not embracing his girlfriend in the pictures taken by Aimee the bartender that are hanging from the walls at Jack's.
• Jerry does not live with Brooke.

I've made the appropriate edits and would like to thank those of you who found the errors for reading the blog and for relaying the correct information to me. If any of you should find more errors in previous posts, in future posts or otherwise wish to see changes or edits, please let me know.

After all, it's not like you don't know where to find me. ;)

I should mention that Matt (I just want to call him Matt and not James Dean....Matt's far more cool in my opinion than James Dean ever was) insta-served me a beer when I came in.

I know my writing style comes off as snarky or silly or maudlin, so let me take a moment to be serious: I think one of the most absolutely awesome parts of going to Jack's is when a bartender serves you a drink when you've only got one foot in the door.

As a customer and a patron it makes me feel great. Thank you, Matt. Thank you very much.

See you at Jack's tomorrow for the Super Bowl! They'll be open at noon with specials on beer and BBQ out back.

Day 36 - Art Show

I visited Jack's Bar & Lounge on Friday with my good buddy and long time friend Sugi.

The weather had turned to crap again but inside Jacks it was warm and quite packed for 6:45 p.m. This was due in no small part to the fact that Tanisha was behind the bar and that the remainder of Aimee's new artwork was put on display and many a person had come in to see the opening of her show.

Basically Everyone was there (not quite like a nosism of the "royal we" sort, but you get the idea) and I had the pleasure of saying hello to several people before Sugi and I could take off our coats, find a seat and get some drinks.

Sugi seemed a bit overwhelmed by it all. My trusty friend Christian and his lovely wife were in attendance and came over to conversate. Thank you both for keeping Sugi company while I went in pursuit of more drinks for the both of us. Thank you John for letting me post up at your spot on the bar to order.

When Sugi went on a smoke break, I took the time to get reacquainted with John and "tuna can" Johnny and hear stories from Sailor Tod and his buddy Jim about the survivability of pre-adolescent human eyeballs when exposed to fireworks and butane lighters.

Grant put a name to my favorite piece of art (as mentioned at the tail end of my Day 33 post) but I can't remember what name he used. I did notice that the picture wasn't all black and white as I'd first thought. There's more color to it.

The new picture of two women laying on a bed, wearing blue jeans and naught else, with their backs to the camera and beautiful tattoos exposed could be described as black and white, but not quite so. More a shade of blue and white. It's hard to describe.

Aimee was in attendance and looked fantastic as always. I would have liked to talk to her but didn't get much more than a chance to say hello. Dean was nearby at that moment and suggested I get a webpage or other link from Aimee and she's working on that.

I'm off to Jack's again to have a closer look at all of the art pieces. I'm discovering more about them each time I visit. Plus, it's an opportunity to see inside Aimee's mind. That, as Spock would say, is fascinating.

See you there!

Day 35 - I Kissed A Girl and I Liked It

....with apologies to Katy Perry. ;)

Another rainy visit to Jack's Bar & Lounge started with me exiting out of my truck at the Happi House parking lot accross the street from the bar.

The nice thing about the rain is it forces people who smoke to pack together under the awning next door to Jack's at Amy's Beauty Salon, which is a great way to meet people.

No sooner did I step under that awning than I realized that --being the paragon of consistency that I am-- I had once again left my lighter at home. No good standing around smokers and possible future bar friends if you don't have a lighter.

However, I did go inside after Chili asked me for a light. When I came back out with free matches from the bar, her friend Carl was waiting patiently in his car for her to finish her as yet unstarted cigarette.

Not sure why he had the window down to keep an eye on her, since Chili wasn't half as drunk as her friend who'd just left and who'd made a point of pressing her ample breasts up against me while peppering me with questions about where I learned Spanish, how long it took to grow my beard and why didn't I have a lighter?

Yep, drunk females who smoke tend to like beards.

Anyway, Chili smoked down her cigarette so fast it was like watching newspaper burn. Before she left she promised that she and I would talk some more (in the way that people do which only assures you the promised thing will never happen) because she's a very interesting person.

Back inside I chanced upon Elijah Wood and my bar buddy Handsome Techie, but not before ACME's brother Bang-Bang Kla-Klow! bumped my beer with his elbow.

Bang-Bang! felt the pain ride up his arm and I felt the warm, breasts-were-just-here feeling on my belly get drowned out by the chill of cold beer.

Fortunately Elijah Wood saw this and pored half his beer into my glass. Bang-Bang apologized to me, then remarked he'd never seen anyone share their alcohol like that before.

I thought to myself 1) it's weird, drinking beer from another man and 2) I would now happily kill anyone for Elijah Wood if he asked, because I really appreciated what he'd done.

At that point ACME returned with more drinks and told us a story about the time it became necessary to say to a group of rude customers long ago, "You shouldn't mess with people who touch your food." Lolz no kidding. That's a bit Fight Club-ish now that I think about it (see below).

Then talk shifted to visits to the unnamed islands between Greece and Turkey. The contrast in cultures is, apparently, somewhat unsettling. For example, a woman sunbathing on a beach could not have her breasts out in the United States, much less allow her ten year old son to play with them experimentally. But on those islands, it was fine and dandy.

We're all such a bunch of prudes here in the US. Let's all take our shirts off, what do you say? (you go first) ;)

Handsome Techie and Elijah Wood moved off to other parts of the bar and I had a nice long conversation with Bang-Bang! and ACME at one of the side wall tables in the bar about military life, dating an Admiral's Daughter, going on the Tiger Tour(?) out of Alameda and what it's like to write this blog. Thank you again to Bang-Bang! for reading the whole damn thing. That's awesome, dude.

Ok, notes time:

• OMG thank you jukebox people for playing real rock! Audioslave, AC/DC, and Through the Fire and Flames by Dragonforce! It's not just a cool end-credits song on Guitar Hero, you know.
• Thank you ACME for the double Stoli vodka shot and for the beer.
• Bang-Bang! for poring his double vodka shot into my hybrid Elija Wood mixed beer when I wasn't looking, then denying it.
• The men's bathroom fan reminded me of an Albert Einstein quote after the second time I stood underneath it and condensation dripped down on my head: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
• The lolz as ACME snuck up on Bang-Bang! and Dempsied him and more lolz when Swearengen tried to Dempsey Kelly aka Ultimate Raiders Fan and she fought back with Pink by Victoria's Secret.
• Ultimate Raiders Fan for the story of how as a little girl her parents gave her permission to swear at the Raiders - Broncos game, so long as she only cussed at John Elway. Teh awesome. 
• Gigantor for talking up all the pretty ladies (he's a pimp, that Gigantor) and for not killing me with your laser eyes. Thanks also for the friendly smile and the firm handshake. You rock dude.
• The two laides at the corner of the bar who pointed at Aimee's new photographic artwork on the walls, then pointed to Matt aka James Dean behind the bar, who is himself featured in two of Aimee's pieces. Little did I know...
• Thank you oh beautiful woman who calls me "old soul". My God is there a more wonderful breath of fresh air in all the world? Every time I see you my heart races and I can't wait to give you a hug and say hello.
• The dude with the Suicide Girls-style star tattoo under his left ear. It was weird...see, I frequently look around the bar to take it all in. Every time I looked this way or that from my interactions with Bang-Bang! and everyone else, neck-star-guy was always in my line of sight with that tattoo showing.
• I had a Twin Peaks moment because of him, but it passed.

Towards the end of the night I met a woman. We'll call her Rosicrucian.

She was sitting with a friend on the corner of the bar. I was all dressed and ready to go home when I saw her. I'm pretty sure I wasn't all that drunk, just buzzed.

Bang-Bang! saw me leaning against the wall opposite Swearengen near the entrance to Jack's and I don't remember telling him I was going to stay and talk to her...all I do remember is one moment I'm standing, the next I'm sitting on the bar stool with my coat off next to Rosicrucian and Bang-Bang! is sitting next to her friend and chatting her up. 

Good man, that Bang-Bang!

Son of Anarchy was on the other side of me and at one point asked me to watch his laptop. But let's be honest, I looked at it maybe once while he was gone and swear to God it was like "Whoa who is crazy enough to leave their laptop alone in a bar? Oh, it's Son of Anarchy's, shit!" because I only had eyes for Rosicrucian.

We talked about my blog and about coming to Jack's every day. She gave me permission to use her real name (not in the mood to do that, tho) and I even got her number. ;)

Here's why I like Rosicrucian:

• She volunteers at a museum here in San Jose (I've been there and that place rocks 100%).
• One of her first questions to me was, "So, what are you reading?" Ding, ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

I told her what I was reading (Brothers: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years - google link). Turns out she's reading Fight Club (linky).

We talked about how men just want to be aggressive for the sake of being aggressive and that's just totally fine with her. I remember looking at Bang-Bang! as he was chatting up Rosicrucian's coworker and thinking to myself I could take him if Rosicrucian asked for a reenactment from the book.

Glad she didn't ask, tho, 'cause Bang-Bang! is really a Ninja in tall Northern European man's clothing.

Last call came all too soon and Swearengen was eager to see the bar emptied and only had to holler at people like five times (thanks for the text later, Swearengen, I know you were not mad at us). I went outside with Rosicrucian and her friend, bid many people goodnight and agreed to walk Rosicrucian across the street with her friend.

I remember a smile, the rumble of an old truck engine starting up, the feel of warm skin beneath my cold hands, the soft touch of breasts against my chest and then closing my eyes at the tender touch of even softer lips. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Yes, men want to be aggressive and boy let me tell you my blood was running hot. But at that moment I didn't want to do anything to interrupt my senses as they took in the wonderful woman in my arms.

I left for home a happy man that night. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rosicrucian. You're one hell of a woman. Take care and I hope to see you again at Jack's.

Note to self: I must try harder not to abuse or otherwise run over the innocent rock at the Happi House parking lot when I go home. My bad, rock.

Day 34 - The Generosity of Others and Al Pancho

Quote(s) of the day:
There are no pussies at Jack's! -Rina, to Pretty Boy
Let's close the bar and go watch shit get run over. -Rina, RE: the Monster Truck show


Of today's visit to Jack's Bar & Lounge, the following should be noted first:

• THANK YOU to God for buying me a beer and a double shot of Whiskey as soon as I walked in the door.
• THANK YOU to ACME for extending my stay by buying me a beer and a Washington Apple (ooh those are sooooo good).
• THANK YOU to Waukeen (we need a codename for you, Waukeen....how about Chuy?) for buying me a beer.
• Thank you to Gary for responding to my accidental butt-dial. You know there are cool people in your life when they see you've called, left no message and so head on over to the bar to make sure you're OK and whether you need help home. Thanks man.
• Thank you to Drew Barrymore, for letting me buy you a beer. Nobody should be left feeling parched at Jack's.

There was a birthday party at Jack's. The birthday boy (we'll call him Pretty Boy - I talked to him later that night, but didn't catch his name) was served up by Rina with a multicolored, reggea themed triple-drink combo.

I can mark off one more item from the checklist of odd things seen. In this case, it was watching a grown man suffer from severe brain freeze. Those birthday shots must have been cold as hell.

A new piece of artwork by Aimee is up at Jack's. This one is a large, wide black picture frame. Within the frame's borders are hung three smaller pictures. Each one is of a heart (seems apropos, with Valentine's day approaching). The picture of a human heart laying on a bed of what looked like long pine needles or straw, with the heart stitched together in two places with thread the color and texture of old bone really caught my eye.

I saw Aimee and Grant as they were leaving. Aimee told me that the opening for her artwork is this Friday at 6 p.m. Come one, come all, as new artwork will be displayed.

DJ Benofficial came in to spin as he always does on Wednesdays. What made this occassion special was that Ben played a track (one of two, actually) he'd recorded earlier today with none other than Al Pancho (website - myspace). Thanks Ben for sharing brand new stuff with us like that. You rock dude.

I wouldn't know new reggae sound from old, but you know it's something good when Fitzroy aka Jamaican Jerk aka JJ is all but jumping back and forth as he dances like a man standing on a floor sized hot plate, with a genuine smile on his face. As an aside: JJ is quite possibly the most physically beautiful man I've ever seen at Jack's.

Wyatt aka Lady Boston accompanied JJ to the bar and let me tell you it was totally awesome to see her again. Lady Boston is a smart, intelligent, extremely well read woman who I could listen to with my eyes closed just for the chance to hear her accent.

Lady Boston, JJ, Dank and Drew Barrymore were all friends of Pretty Boy's and his girlfriend (didn't catch her name) and were there for his birthday.

I went outside and a man with big black sunglasses on asked me if I was a bouncer. His shades reminded me of those worn by the doorman who got his neck broke by Seraph in the third Matrix movie. I said no to his question and told him I'm just here to breath in the night air and extend my buzz from my toes to the top of my head. Yogi-style full breaths are good for that.

The scent of DJ Benofficial's Black and Mild mixed nicely with the night air and brought back memories of sitting next to the fire in the basement of my aunt Joy's house in the wintertime, where my uncle Jerry smoked his pipe and told me that sound of a fart was not in fact him, but the call of a barking spider.

That's my excuse now, too. ;)

Two women came in from the Cirque du Soleil OVO show going on just up the street on Taylor. One of them had what looked like a Harlequin mask and seemed quite pleased to have bought it. I should have worked up the courage to talk with them before the left.

I spoke with ACME about what it's like to work in a restaurant versus a bar. In the former, it's always "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir, let me get that for you sir" whereas in a bar it's, "Look, this is how it is. We can do it my way or you can take your shit and get the fuck out".

I saw a man who I was later told decorates his house in doilies and old furniture. He was very stylishly dressed, with an understated scarf protruding from under a well-worn leather jacket. Not sure what type of hat he wore. I'd like to see that house.

I saw Scotty aka Mr. Scott come in. He left too soon. I like his Bejan accent and how his sentences flow up and down like a song.

I hit on a woman who came to the bar by herself and hung out alone for like an hour. The could shoulder she gave me was so fierce I got frostbite.

DJ Otrebor took over the reigns from DJ Benofficial for awhile. At about that time the bar -which wasn't all that packed when I came in- started to fill up.

Chuy and I had a nice long talk about why we like Jack's so much. He told me a story of how he'd first come to Jack's with his sister and Matt aka James Dean was behind the bar. Matt shook Chuy's hand and went about his business after serving Chuy and his sister their drinks on a very busy night.

The next day Chuy came to the bar and Matt came up to him with Chuy's sister's ID, which she'd left behind by mistake the night before. Chuy was surprised that Matt even remembered him with everything else that was going on and was very appreciative as he took back his sister's ID.

I met a tall man with a large diamond imprinted in white on his black hat. That same same diamond was on the large grey sweatshirt that he wore. I've met him and his friend before, but failed to get their names both times.

Outside I met a man who wishes to be called Cool. Cool is an artist and told me a story of how he had to bail on commitment to show his artwork at Jack's back when Jack's was reopened under the current ownership. Cool had no choice because he chanced on an opportunity to show the same art pieces in San Francisco. As it turned out he sold everything.

My memory is kind of fuzzy at this point (who am I kidding: I'm tired of writing and am late for my Thursday trip to Jack's), but I recall talk of the following:

• 40oz beer bottles raining down around you like artillery shells while being chased by gang members in San Jose
• Teachers getting dressed down for assuming children were being disruptive by their choice of crayons to use when in fact they were just color blind
• Of how multiple bar patrons have parents who teach mentally handicapped children
• Of how such children only have love in their hearts

I also remember a man showing me pictures of his work cutting words and patterns into people's hair. He works with his sister at a salon. My phone notes say his name is Jaime Fox.

I ended my trip to Jack's by watching a tow truck driver peel out at the intersection of 5th and Taylor. I didn't know tow trucks could do that.

Lolz see you tomorrow or an extremely brief visit to Jack's.

Day 33 - Wodehouse vs. Gigantor

I get confused easily. I also scare easily.

For example, I walked in to Jack's Bar & Lounge tonight and took a seat at the bar near the corner. I looked up from hanging my coat on the hook beneath the bar to see Swearengen aka Travis setting a beer down in front of me.

I said thank you, then paid him.

Thing was, Swearengen was looking over at the man sitting next to me (that is, the big, husky, white long sleeve shirt wearing to make room for the muscles beneath, crush me to death with his will alone man) who had just about finished with his beer, which was a Sierra Nevada*.  We'll call this man Gigantor.

I looked from his beer to the one I thought was mine and saw it was a Sierra as well.

Questions immediately came to mind:

• Did I just take Gigantor's beer?
• If so, did I look the fool in front of Travis?
• Or did Travis just forget I drink PBR and not Sierra?
• Also, had I lived a full, fruitful life?
• Would Gigantor show mercy by visiting a swift death upon me? 
• Or would death come slow, by way of my bones being broken one at a time between Gigantor's meaty eyebrows?

Fortunately Gigantor -as I came to learn- is something of a spiritual man (he said, "God bless you" a lot). Perhaps he was contemplating weighty matters because if I did in fact take his beer, he did not notice.

In all seriousness, I haven't gotten permission to use his name and Gigantor was an extremely friendly fellow; he got up close and personal and talked to everyone and then some (right James aka kla-klow bang-bang?). People knew his name, so there's a history to him I need to learn.

Let's just hope he does not read blogs. ;)

As always, Christian's arrival enhanced my evening. He suggested that I follow the style of the English writer, P. G. Wodehouse, who wrote of meeting people at Gentlemen's Clubs as follows, "I met a tall Gin and Tonic."

So, I could have written Gigantor as "I looked over at a wide shouldered Sierra Nevada, clad in white shirt that did little to hide the broad slabs of muscle beneath, and I knew fear" or some such.

The San Jose Sharks managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory with a loss to Detriot after racking up a 2 goal lead (I hate the Red Wings more than I hate the Ducks) and there were at least two Shark's Jerseys being worn at the bar.

The informal society of the Four Bearded Men (of which I am a proud member) will become the informal society of the Three Bearded Men by tomorrow. Grant, I'll miss your beard. Save the clippings and donate them to charity, I say.

My favorite overheard story of the night was the one about the midget bodyguard who could walk standing up inside a limo. When the driver hit the brakes unexpectedly the little man flew through the cab and was caught mid-flight by a limo occupant before he could go crashing into the glass separating the driver from everyone else. Cool.

I also overheard a woman say, "I used to work here when they first opened" but I did not get a chance to talk to her, nor get much of a look at her face. Hrm....lots of people to talk to, still.

New artwork has arrived at Jack's in the form of four beautiful photographs hanging from the walls. I agreed with Christian that the two pieces closest to the entrance seemed hung a bit too high.

I found myself wanting to make direct eye contact with the woman laying on her back, her face wreathed by her own hair with flowers scattered around her. The use of color over black and white grabbed my attention, to be sure--oh those eyes! But she was too high up for it to "work".

Anyway, that one's my favorite, though the picture of Matt aka James Dean embracing a woman comes in a close second.

The opening of this particular show of art is this Friday at Jack's. Come down and take a look!

*That's one of the bar skills I've learned: i.e., how to tell the tap beers by their particular shade of color, even with the lights down.

Day 32 - James Dean and The Big Purple Root - 2.1.2010

Monday at Jack's Bar & Lounge is a mystery because I left my phone at home. Bereft of my ability to take notes, I was force to rely on my memory.

Hrm...yeah.

Dank was spinning and Drew Barrymore was in attendance. We talked shop and came up with a name for Matt: James Dean.

Perfect!

I met Yesenia and Dave tonight. They gave me the OK to use their first names when I mentioned the blog.

Yesenia can do a great impression of a man burdened by a huge penis (we're talking elephant trunk) to the point that he's forcibly hunched over, dragging it along as he walks. It reminded me of Ephialtes from the movie 300.

The name of Ephialtes' massive member, as named by Yesenia: The Big Purple Root.

Kind of reminds me of choir practice in Junior High, when we'd sing the words, "The purple headed mountain, the river running by..." then look over at the other side where all the girls sat to see which ones were smiling.

I saw that spider web tattoo again. This time I noticed there was a heart at its center. I wonder, though, if there are not two women who sport such tattoos on their shoulders? Eithe way works for me! ;)

She was standing next to a man I've seen before that looks like a beefy version of Errol Flynn, or perhaps an English pilot from World War II. Swear to God I see the man and think to myself that this dude needs to put on a leather jacket and aviator goggles and go save the world from Hitler's Germany.

No doubt there's more, but I just can't remember. Will have to make new memories (and bring my damn phone) on tomorrow's visit to Jack's. See you then.

Day 31 - Month #1 Complete

Lolz I didn't realize until I set out to write the title for this post that I'd completed the first month of visiting Jack's Bar & Lounge.

Reading back over the blog, I find it remarkable that a month has already gone by.

I do like the utility of the blog though. Of being able to remember things more easily through the words; they act as cues for my memory. They bring images to mind of each night's visit and remind me of all the things I didn't write and that I chose not to write.

There are some times now that I won't visit Jack's. This is not to say I'll miss a day. Not at all.

But I can't say why.

Perhaps when eleven more months have gone by and I'm done with this silly project, I can return to Jack's at those times and make it clear I'm just like everyone else, with no inclination what so ever to write.

You know what, fuck that. I won't go in because I'm behaving like a pussy. Those words I lined out also imply it's others who make me feel uncomfortable, but the truth is nobody at Jack's does that. Not one person. If there's an issue, it's with me.

Moving on....

The walls at Jack's were still bereft of artwork (hanging is on Tuesday, IIRC) and was full of people I didn't recognize, save for three.

There was Rina behind the bar, in a particularly jovial mood. Her laughter came easily and drowned out the sounds of the Pro Bowl coming from all the speakers, as well as the conversations of the patrons, but it wasn't unpleasant.

Rina has the kind of laugh that sort of grabs you and lifts you up as though a whole crowd of people were laughing at a shared joke and you feel the need to get in on it so you can have fun too.

There was a couple I've seen before. He: handsome in a simple t-shirt. She: all dark, curly locks of hair, with a face that makes you want to capture it in every form of media imaginable because it's so incredibly beautiful. I know their names, but won't write them.

I tried to find substitute names for them ala the Naming Conspiracy, but I'd have to use an Archangel and a Porn Star to do it. Doesn't seem right.

Plz get ur phone fixd soon, Drew!

Anyway, I had my beers, watched some football and made to hit the road. Fortunately I ran into Shannon and Lisa as they were walking in, then my bar buddy Gary outside.

They lent a sense of "this is what I'm used to" to the night.

Good man, that Gary.

See you very late on Monday night at Jack's.

Day 30 - Of Wolf Moons and Mexican Jokes As Told By Latinos

I met a one legged woman. I asked her her name and she said it was Ilene. I thought "Ok" so then I asked her where she likes to eat. She told me IHOP. Damn!

Two Mexicans were drinking at the cantina and went out back to take a piss. They were going about their business when a cold wind blew through.
One guy says, "It's a little chilly."
The other guy says, "Speak for yourself, mine's a big chili."

Q. What do gay horses like to eat?
A. Haaaaaay.

-As told to me by da Vinci (Naming Conspiracy, remember?) and let me tell you da Vinci rocks.

I knew even before I walked in to Jack's Bar & Lounge tonight that mine would be a short trip. Heavy alcohol consumption wears on the soul and I just didn't feel like trading in the essence of my being for the privilege of having yet another hangover.

The wolf moon was in full effect, ducking in and out of the fast moving clouds like a headlight in the fog. A chill had settled in after sunset and I could see my breath as I walked across the street from the Happi House parking lot on 5th and Taylor to Jack's.

I saw da Vinci standing in the front yard of his neighbor's house and stopped to say hello. He introduced me to his neighbors and told me several jokes, some of which you were forced to read above. ;)

Swearengen (formerly the Godfather, Jack Black, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds, but otherwise known as Travis) greeted me at the entrance to Jack's. We'll see you at Flames tomorrow morning, Travis.

From outside I could see that the interior walls of Jack's were bereft of paintings and artwork. Matt told me that his artwork was taken down because it was Aimee's turn to put up her work, which will be hung next Tuesday. Matt spent a good part of today patching small holes and repainting the walls.

That's something I've noticed about how Jack's is managed: they do a lot of regular upkeep and keep the bar looking new and fresh.

I don't like it when the walls are bare. Doesn't feel right. I am looking forward to what Aimee has in store, though. Her nudes are some of my favorite works. ;)

Inside the Shark's game had just ended (Shark's won!) and every seat in the house was full. I'm not sure if the crowd was into the game or not, but I did see at least one Shark's jersey. Matt returned from his break outside and poored me a beer while the DJ set up to start spinning.

Spent a lot of time out on the back patio where Dank* was working, just chilling (in the cold, haha), trying to avoid the water condensation that covered all the patio tables like a cold, wet blanket, writing notes to myself on my Blackberry and listening to three regulars smack talk about work.

Someone managed to pull around back and turn the corner at the patio fencing and park their car. I hope they don't drink too much, because backing out is going to be a bitch and that fence might take a hit or two when they try to get out.

At least the four people who exited the car were wearing so much perfume between them that it temporarily masked the scent of skunk that wafted in on the evening air as they walked around front to go inside. Made me think of a cheap Sex Panther knockoff. ;)

Dank turned on the heat lamps and I watched steam slowly curl up like cigarette smoke and evaporate into the night air as the metal lamp hoods heated up.

Dank's girlfriend Drew (Barrymore, my Naming Conspiracy co-plotter) was in attendance tonight, but she disappeared and I don't know where she went.

Back inside a crowd had started to form and I knew my time was short. I made to finish my beer when I saw a hand waving at me from the bar. I hadn't seen Gary in awhile but I sure as heck saw him tonight. His date was really beautiful and I'm glad I got to finally meet her in person. There's something about the smile of a beautiful woman that gets to me and tonight was no different.

Speaking of beautiful women: there were quite a few of them at Jack's. I like the gal who has the spiderweb tattoo on her arm (mentioned her previously in this blog, I think).

I went outside to speak with Swearengen some more, saw the bar owner slip inside to start his shift next to Matt (I really can't think of a code name for Matt --help, Drew!), checked the moon one more time and hit the road home.

See you Sunday at Jack's!

*Note: "Dank" is what this particular Jack's employee prefers to be called in the blog; thus Dank is not an actor or the name of a character from a movie -- you can find Dank spinning on Monday nights and working the door and tending bar several other days of the week.

Day 29 - Hold Space

Lolz too busy to write up my Friday-at-Jack's experience. Will be back to finish later.

::::::::::

Ok, in short order:

• Saw Jeff tonight. Hadn't seen him in awhile and it was like a surprise visit from a long lost brother. I miss him so damn much. Bought him and Gabby some drinks.
• Thank you Gabby for teaching me more about the back history of Jack's and Mission Alehouse. It was a a thrill to finally get to talk to you. Wish I'd have worked up the courage a long time ago, but know this: you're definitely worth waiting for.
• Thank you Christian for the Jägermeister shots, for the beers and for letting me sleep over.
• Had a great conversation with the bartender's mother. She remembers a time when bars were for old men only. We talked about hard work, working long hours and the wisdom in getting one's degree before one gets married. It was a pleasure to talk to you.
• To the three bartenders and the crowd for making Friday so much fun.

See you Saturday night at Jack's!

Day 28 -Of ACME and The Shot Whisperer

Quote of the night:
Ever since the Raiders sucked dick, I've been a Shark's fan.
-Jim

Before I forget: My apologies to Doug. I thought you were Mike. All you white people look the same to me.

Jack's Bar & Lounge was semi-full for the Shark's game tonight. Sucks that the Sharks lost to Chicago in overtime. Impressive comeback from a three goal deficit though. Watching Shark's games with a crowd is always fun, especially at Jack's.

People met tonight:

• Tina, who plays Rugby with men or women and tells a good brain teaser (I would have kidnapped the woman of my dreams and left the old lady and the average woman on the side of the road). Hell of a coach, I'm told.
• Chris, who remembers the halcyon days of Sacramento bars, particularly the one that would clean off its walls each year, then have them filled with bras belonging to newly christened 21 year olds by the end of the year. Those were, in Chris' words, the days.
• Jim, a friend of Tod's, who's back in the Bay Area and looking to make it big one way or another.
• The aforementioned Doug, who I thought was Mike from last night. Damn white people.

To be given a name is a blessing or a curse. If I overhear your being given a name at Jack's, it will very likely go on the internetz for all time. Thus, Jerry hath been christened by Travis as the Shot Whisperer.

I'm not sure why Travis did this, but it doesn't matter; it sounds cool.

Operation Naming Conspiracy got some wind in its sales tonight, via the executive decision to include animated characters as possible choices. Including fictitious corporations from animated TV shows is stretching that decision, but I'm easy like that.

If you read this blog regularly, you know I always mention anyone who buys me a drink. Today's entry is no exception. We could have called him Hawk from M.A.S.K, we could have called him Hefty Smurf, but no, we went one step further. His name shall be ACME.

My thanks to ACME's generosity tonight for the PBR and the Blueberry Press. Who would have know that soda water, 7-Up, ice and Blueberry flavored Stoli could taste so good? On ACME's advice this shall become a future summer drink, for when the days get ugly-hot.

Lord almighty it's a miracle. Not only did I get home before midnight, but el blog is done too!

Friday at Jack's should be fun. No curfew then. ;)

Before I forget: Dank is behind the bar on Saturday from opening until the night shift 'tenders arrive. If live bands are more your speed, check out Fat Cat's on Saturday. Travis (lolz, let's just call him The Godfather) will be there and so will three (or four?) local bands.

Until then, take it easy. See you at Jack's!