2003-06-01 - 2:29 p.m.

The first part of this entry is posted here: A Day With Nephew Jason, part 1.

So I’m at the Sacramento capital park with my nephew and my mother.

5/25 - continued

My nephew and I are on the grass listening to a choir sing about God and county, every lyric is absent of America’s failures. Jason isn’t even trying to listen. His attention span is as long as his four-year-old pinky toe. He gets up and starts to run up to the steps of the Capital building. I have to get up and grab him so he doesn’t run into the choir of old people that are singing. I veer him off to the side and he starts running around the corner of the Capital. His legs are less than two feet long, but that boy can sprint. Its all very playful so I let him run faster than me. I’ve given up and having him watch my mother sing. All he did when he was sitting was squirm.

Around the corner of the building he gets ahead of me. He runs up the steps and some fourteen year old are sitting around being young. There is four of them. Three guys and one girl. Of the four of them there are six empty hands; one of the guys is practically feeling up the girl. The other two guys are dorky and lonely and are just tagging along. They stay awake at night rubbing their tads Rogaine on the groins, praying for testosterone to kick in. Their friend, with his hands full, has already endured the trial of puberty and popped his pimples but has also enjoyed the benefits of puberty and probably popped something else belonging to the girl he has his hands on.

Nephew Jason starts talking to the teenagers. They call him little man and he asks them what they are doing. They aren’t being delinquents their just being teenagers, enjoying the weekend and the park. But then one of them asks me how much trouble he could get into if he slides across the hood of the California Highway Patrol car that is sitting in front of the steps, unattended to. I tell him there are cameras in the car. And maybe cameras on the building monitoring the grounds. I don’t know what penalty he would have to serve if he got caught. If his ass dents the hood then he’s be shit out of luck if they caught him because that is damaging state property. I talk the little nerdy guy out of trying to be a dumbass. But then the guy with the girlfriend, who thinks he is more of a man, thinks he can do. He can run up and slide his ass across the hood of the CHP car. I tell him its his business but if he does do, try not to dent it and try not to get his legs caught in the battering ram that is on the bumper of the car. The kid ignores me. I’m trying to ignore him and keep an eye on Jason, who is climbing up and down the steps and trying to look in the windows of the capital. The girl starts chastising her boyfriend. She tells him not to be stupid. The guy is smart enough to listen. He likes getting his hands full so he listens to her and comes back on the steps.

The door to the capital opens and the highway officer comes out. The teenagers are sitting on a window seal. He asks them what they are doing and he grasps a hold of one of the dorky ones by his neck and checks him for I don’t know what. He tells him that they aren’t allowed to sit up there and runs them off. The kids leave politely. They didn’t do anything but I’m not going to bother to say anything because they aren’t that offended. Jason talks to the officer and asks him his name and tries to run into the building. The building is closed. I have to grab a hold of Jason before he commits trespassing. I thank the officer and take Jason off the steps. He then runs up to the officers car and wants me to lift him up so he can look inside. We do the same amount of staring as the teenagers did but we don’t get bothered. I don’t get bothered, even though I have a Mohawk and look like a trouble maker, but I guess the smiling little boy in my arms makes me look like less of a hell raiser.

We go back over to where the choir is. They are taking a break. My mother then wants to introduce me to people. I get introduced to this family that has a little girl Jason’s age. Jason sits down next to the little girl so I sit down next to them. They know my mother is Jason’s grandmother so they assume I am Jason’s father. I tell them that I’m not. I’m his uncle. They ask me if Jason is the son of my sister or my brother. I say, that I’m Jason’s Mother’s brother. Then I surprise them by making Smothers Brothers joke. I don’t look like the type that likes the Smothers Brothers Comedy team. I know it may be a surprise to you, but I’m full of surprises.

The choir starts up again and Nephew Jason won’t sit still. He says he is bored. I tell Jason I’m bored also. There are a couple of Hummers sitting out in front of the capital because there is some military presence because it is Memorial Day weekend. Jason asks me to fix his shoe. I tell Jason we can look at the trucks but then he has to come back and sit still. I then walk with him over to the Hummers. He stares in. I tell him that these are fine for military use but most guys that want these to just drive around in probably have the same size penis as he does. Jason doesn’t get the joke. He runs over to the gardener’s truck and starts talking to them. He’s more interested in the little truck. He ask them a lot of questions and wants to climb in the back where grass and clippings usually go. He tries to climb in but I pull him down. He talks to the two gardeners for about 15 minutes then gives them a hug and we walk off together.

Jason runs back up to the steps and wants to run to the top. He doesn’t want to sit still. Chasing after him is better than sitting still while Christians chase after my soul. He runs around to the side and wants to run onto the stage. I try to distract him and hold him still while everyone sings the star spangled banner. I guess patriotism doesn’t come naturally to Nephew Jason. I tell him I’ll show him some place new and I walk him around to the North steps of the Capital. He runs around there and starts climbing on rocks. I chase after him until we are both tired and I lay on the ground. He asks if he can sit on me. I say sure, then he plops down on me, nearly pummeling the only place that matters – right below the belt.

We lay there for awhile until my mother finds us. She sees that the capital is now open and wants to take a tour. We go in and look at the exhibits. I point out all the beers I have consumed that are in the Mendocino county exhibit. My mother isn’t impressed. Jason wants to run around and touch everything. I have to hold his hand tightly, or carry him. Jason gets quickly bored by the capital. My mother wants him to learn. We stay for a couple hours until I convince my mother we are all hungry and Jason is too bored.

We go to Fresh Choice. I sit next to Jason and be sure he is well behaved. There is a decent amount of other children around. Four-year-olds are just extra short hooligans so you have to watch them closely. At one point it is just Jason and I at the table and a guy that works at Fresh Choice tells me my son is very well-behaved. I don’t tell him Jason isn’t my son. I’m tired of clarifying. I’m a father figure to Jason, not his only one, but one of a few. So who cares, I pity the kid because he does look like me.

Afterwards we go back to church and I go to Trader Joe’s where I buy 24 bottle of Two-Buck-Shaw. Charles Shaw is selling wine for two dollars a bottle. What a bargain.

My sister calls me up and she wants ice cream. She has strep throat. I go to Ben & jerry’s in Sacramento where I can get a fat discount. I buy 4 pints and take them to my sister. My sister is living with my father. Its Jason, Katie, Jay (my brother in law), and my Father all in one mobile home. I don’t know how they fit but its temporary. Katie just bought a $135,000 house.

I get my registration sticker for my car and I get a sermon about alcohol consumption from my sister. My Dad tells me to change my oil. I drive home and document my life.

5/26.2003

I go to work. Its busy. It’s a holiday. I make money. Now I can live. Someone says that I look like an elf. Another person says I have a magic mustache. I guess that’s what I need to have in order to throw ice cream.

After work I go to the computer lab. I start typing. I can feel my nerve endings tingle, like they are trying to shake off all the alcohol I have doused them with.

Dan comes in and we talk about the article he wrote for Battle of the Bands. It was 5 pages long but Aaron D., the arts editor, trimmed it down to 2 and a quarter. I helped Dan write the article so I was all over the place. Aaron said, “Yeah, all this Rob Roy has to go.” Then he told Dan that next year he should write a feature piece called Who is Rob Roy? Where did he come from? And why is he so annoying? When he said that Stan O. was standing right there and said, “Yeah, Rob Roy’s a dusch bag.” Its good to have enemies. A man without enemies is a man without character. I don’t like Aaron. He’s really too boring to dislike. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t make eye contact. He’s arrogant, but not unbelievably so. He probably just thinks I’m a little off-putting. Stan O. I dislike. He’s an arrogant misogynist. He will be my nemesis for the next few years. He’s a smart enough guy to deserve to have a nemesis. It will make life interesting.

Dan goes home. I stop by his place to pick some note pads to write my letter to the Aggie. I go to my car and go to sleep.

5/27.2003

I write a letter to the Aggie about the battle of the bands, that follows:

I am offended by the article written about the Battle of the bands. Mainly because Dan Glendening gets far too much play of the female variety to write for the Aggie. So the following is Rob Roy’s collection of thoughts and quotes on the battle of the bands.

The show is hosted by two wonderful women: Vee and Amy, but they are the only female presence of the night. Phillip Neustrom steals a quote from Paul Ivanov when he tells me the event "is a total sausagefest."

Before the show even started Hoang Ngo says about the evening, "Sucks. I doubt I’ll change my mind."

After saying he hopes to play well, Eric of The List says, "Hopefully we’ll break something." I ask, "A bone or musical equipment?" He replies, "I don’t care. Whatever is appropriate."

Now a list of quotes about the bands.

Sholi

Eugene Canotal said, "They were all right. Bassist looked like he was in a trance like state."

Shannon Dinis added, "Cool, bassist didn’t have shoes." But then she added that they were "pretty good. But too mellow." I ask her if she thinks they should "work on finding the distortion pedal." "Seriously," she says.

Jake from the Zim Zims said, "They were astounding." When I asked him if he could beat the lead singer, Payam Bavafa, in a bar fight. Jake initially says he could, but then he retracts and says, "I would buy him a shot."

Tryte

Jaizi and Joe Friday of the KDVS Tuesday afternoon show say, "their name is what they sound like. Its like onomatopoeia."

Josh Fernandez whines, "Horrible. Can we hear a few more Hootie and the Blowfish cover songs."

Later in the night Lucy Condreras would tell me, "I don’t know their name, but the second band – they were all right." I asked if she was sexually attracted to them. She said, "No."

But I say they sing like they are trying to talk a woman into bed. But doesn’t everyone.

Simpleton

The audience starts off by screaming; "I like you shoes."

Jordan, Agent J from KDVS, says, "Pop sh-t. If I had a chainsaw, I’d use it on their head."

The lead singer, Blair, keeps singing "excuse me." I assume he would like to add on, "Polite angst… coming through."

Even though they did have a commanding presence and talked to the audience, Josh Fernandez states, "I could kick every one of these bands asses. Bunch of pussies playing music these days. Where is Bon Scott when you need him? Who writes a song about Davis?"

Sequence of Service

My initial reaction is: Pound for Pound – the heaviest band of the night.

Jackson Pritt says, "They don’t sound bad, but they’ll never be on MTV. They just don’t have the look."

Hoang Ngo likes their look because he tells me, "Fat guys – the best."

Shots Were Fired

This is not my bag baby. It is music to sleep to. Everyone in the audience is sitting still, like they are watching television or a blank wall. I know at this point that the bands favorite songs to play are cover songs. They are the most passionate when they aren’t thinking for themselves. The lead singer of Shots Were Fired losing his place while singer a Toadies song. I guess that’s what happens when there is a middleman between your brain and your mouth. My suggestion is to play more original music.

Unless

When Unless hits the stage a mosh pit ensues. Finally it is noticeable that there is actually an audience at this event.

After the set Shannon Dinis says, "They rocked. Their energy was intense. Other bands are just standing there playing their instruments. These guys get into it. The singer’s pretty hot." I guess chicks love stage presence. And you know what Eddy Murphy says about singers.

Seven Year Plan

The singer has a whiney baby-talk emo voice but the drumming is great. I’m surprised the guy can hold on to his sticks with all the sweat that must be accumulating on his skin.

Shannon says the singer, "wanted to be an R & B singer but couldn’t make it on American Idol. The other guys had a lot of energy. All he did was pace back and forth and the mic like it was made of glass."

Because the band covered the song "Time After Time" Eugene Canotal says, "anyone that covers an eighties song is pretty good."

Modus

"I thought they said modest which made me laugh because they’re not modest, they’re full of themselves," is the quandary that Shannon Dinis struggled with. But her initial response is, "The singer is a bitch."

I watch as they play Weezer while wearing a white bandana. It’s an emo paradox. Are these guys overdosing on Vicadin right before our eyes? They are too reserved. Rock star wannabes by night and republicans by day. The set gets caught off by time restrictions. The singer pulls a bad ass move by not walking off the stage. He tries to finish the song. Emo says screw authority. I’m sure he would smash his guitar but his Dad would probably get mad. And parents opinions come first in Rock and Roll.

During intermission I see audience members dash off to jamba Juice where "punk rock" is served in Styrofoam with extra yuppie flavor. "A yuppie boost," Shannon says. "This power chord tastes like Peach," I add.

Ennui

Shannon starts laughing after five seconds worth of music. The band is standing still. I wonder if they are rockstars or mannequins. The band breaks a guitar sting and Shannon cheers the destruction. She says, "they’re going to get the curtains closed on them." I ask, "Deservedly so?" "Maybe," she replies.

The band has technicality difficulties so they keep repeating, "Sorry for the delay."

I yawn. It is all the cheering they are going to get from me tonight. Shannon checks her watch.

Dan Glendening comes up to me and says, "I think I’m running out of steam." I hand him a beer and say, "In a state of ennui, are we?"

Phase 3

The bands most prominent lyric is, "just can’t get you out of my mind." They should change their name to Klee-shay and do a world tour with Tryte.

The only people cheering also happen to be drinking alcohol. And even then,

the cheers seem obligatory, like a handshake.

They cover a cover of the Rolling Stones "Paint it Black." They are so far from original thought it is ridiculous. They sound like Ben Stein singing the Stones.

The List

They are the first band of the night to start off their set by saying the name of the band. That’s Johnny Cash style so I give them a little respect. They play to win as they are well rehearsed.

Shannon says they’re "Better than the last time I saw them. I stopped harmonizing. Which is good. Because they couldn’t."

Filthy Pete and the Moustaches

Pete looks like a Bushwhacker with decent dental hygiene and without the arm swinging. Strumming Joe Moustache plays guitar as if he is simultaneously making love to and squeezing the juice from a lemon. There are only two men in the band so it leaves little room for imperfection.

Filthy Pete doesn’t play a cover song. He lie to the crowd and plays a song he says his uncle wrote. I doubt this. Filthy Pete doesn’t look trusty worthy. But all he has is original ideas and I admire that. The band is lying anyway because they don’t have moustaches. As a man with a moustache I am offended.

When Filthy Pete shouts, "This is our hit," Stan Oklobdzija holds his lighter in the air and stares up adoringly at the stage.

After the set Shannon says, "That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life."

The Backups

Don, the drummer, comes out with his shirt already off. He skips the foreplay and penetrates us with the rhythm.

They cover the Violent femmes, "Blister in the Sun." They destroy the song. The drummer uses way too much of his set. All the Femmes have is a snare drum. They are taint minimalism with excessiveness. It’s like a Buddhist monk snorting cocaine and sporting a Rolex. When they finish their set they destroy a guitar. College kids destroying guitars, makes you wonder is their parents are paying for their rock stardom.

Doug Douglas

Pop punk. Pop sh-t. Pop Piss. Like to whine and curse like a merchant marine. The band spits on the crowd so they get an F on hygiene. But Joe Friday of KDVS spits back.

The drummer has some talent. His arms reach everywhere with the rhythm. Its like his curly blonde locks are pointing the way. The band slightly mellows out for their heart wrenching chick song. A

shameful ploy to try to get laid. But the song is bland and uneventful. Probably a parallel to what it is like to get laid by members of the band. The fit four songs into their set. But songs aren’t orgasms so I’m not impressed.

Keep Your Distance

During the cover of Black Flag’s "Gimmee Gimmee Gimmee" Josh Fernandez, who shouted earlier, "Where are all the good bands?" trots across the stage drinking a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. The irony of him doing this during a song by a straight age band is amplified by the fact that the lead singer

takes a beer from Josh. Josh supplied the booze for half of the audience. Beer is flying across the stage. The band is dripping more than just sweat, it is hops, malt, barely, and yeast. Even though the Don Kelley, the lead singer, looks like Bill from Bill and Ted he manages to pull off a badass persona because the set gets shut down. You can’t call yourself a badass unless you get censored. The set starts up again and all the angry white men migrate to the mosh pit. The vocals are indecipherable, as if everything Don screams is his own version of "Louis Louie."

Women rush to the stage. Hardcore groupies adored in Cosmo-girl inspired fashion.

The set ends with Don flipping of the crowd. He looks like he was born with his middle finger in the air.

The contest ends in a tie. Even though I suggest they should have a Jim Morrison inspired tiebreaker, and decide by who has the biggest penis, The List wins in an entertaining game of Rock Paper Scissors.

In a shameless plug from Arts editor Aaron Davidson’s band, Brilliant Red Lights, Erik of the List asks upon eating pizza after winning, "Where the hell is B.R.L."

The California Aggie Doesn't print my letter. In hindsight, If I run into Shannon again - it would all be worth it. I love a woman with angry tongue. If you don't have anything to say that will offend at least one person then don't say anything at all. Words should be provoking, and Shannon could provoke me with her tongue.

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