punk rock week

oh did you want to hear about cuenca? i thought i might just post a bunch of cryptic pictures for a change. old cuenca is built on a narrow ridgetop above the confluence of a river and a smaller stream. its famous for its "hanging houses" which are on one side of the ridge. the most famous one is in several of my pictures and is an abstract art museum now. it has a cool all white room, which is itself a piece of art. Actually it is far cooler than the art it houses. the landscape around cuenca is really beautiful and mountainous, and semi-wild. much more so than madrid anyway, we would have done some hiking if it hadn't been unrelentingly wet. every new city we go to i tend to like more than the last. valencia is next on the agenda for las fallas, one of the wierdest festivals in this nation of wierd festivals (more at 11:00).

in the time since, we have jumped through all the beaurocratic flaming hoops and becky has a signed contract. i have refrained from posting about this process because i already lived it and all i can say is it sucks and theres nothing i can do about it. but its mostly over, at least the hardest parts.

this week my friend from work, alberto, played a gig with his punk band. two days later, stiff little fingers played. the last time i saw stiff little fingers was in portland a few years ago. everybody i went with was extremely excited because noone had any idea they still existed and they were a favorite of pretty much everybody. i told lucy, an irish friend in portland, about the show and she said "really! theyre old belfast rockers!". i said "duh!!!!"(it's hard to imagine more punk credentials than growing up in late 70's belfast. maybe if they were from somalia or something it would be more impressive). she rounded up a friend from alaska and her old boyfriend, both huge fans. i rounded up some old vegas friends who lived in portland. my friend mark elected not to go becasue he thought it would be a bloodbath of skinhead violence. for some reason the irish punk bands, e.g slf and the pogues, have a fan base in the US that includes these guys (not the racist kind, but rather the ones who will kick your white ass to prove they are not nazis. which is worse, i wonder? at least the nazis just come out and say "we are fascists"). he was right about the rivers of blood, but it was worth it, and my friends and i did not personally recieve face smashings. at that time the guitarist from the jam played with them and chad made off wth his pick after a show of hoarse sing alongs, fists punching the air, etc. we were totally prepared to be dissapointed, like going to see david lee roth on life support at a casino on an indian reservation, but the band was incredible and we left unable to speak and drenched in sweat.

this time, i went alone. becky was not interested, and niether was alberto. the scene couldn't have been more different. the place was full of grayhairs who looked like average 30 and 40 somethings off the street, and it was astonishing to think that all of these people in there had once been punks. not a single skinhead face stomping, or even a punch occurred the whole night. the band was just as tight as ever, though they must be really bored. people only want to hear their songs from 30 years ago, including me to be honest. jake burns looked like a middle aged suburban dad or possibly grandpa. there's no pretention as he doesn't try to look cool or younger than he is, he just literally limps out behind his big belly. he would look at home in a golf cart. but he can still totally sear your face off when they lay into "suspect device". i like that element of surpise. i accidentally punched the ceiling for that one. then i lost what was left of my voice on "alternative ulster". made it home at a respectable gray-haired 12:30.