Sunday Girl / Monday Monday

So on Sunday, I was able to convince Julie and Mike to go to the Electronic Music Festival... or, as it is now known as, the Fuse-in -- it hurts just to type it. It's in downtown Detroit, and it was a bit of a zoo. It had four stages where the headlining performers DJed or did a live set, but then it also had all these booths set up by small record labels, which usually had a DJ spinning music through speakers that pointed directly in front of the booths. The sensation was not unlike the opening scene of "A Touch of Evil", with different music bleeding into each other and changing as you were walking by. You'd hear some guy spinning old school techno accompanied by a live drummer, and you'd walk a little further, and you'd hear a woman rapping about how Chicago could kick Detroit's ass. I suspect she thought this was a controversial statement in Detroit, but I think everyone was just nodding and saying to themselves, "Yeah, that sounds about right." A lot of the actual techno music was pretty generic, as most techno is. Given the choice between the founders of the Detroit Techno scene and any random House anthem, give me the House anthem: it's got more soul.

I was surprised by how many people weren't dancing at all. You would think that that would be pretty much a given. There were, however, a lot of attractive guys wearing wife-beaters. With one guy in particular, a college kid by the look of it, maybe 22: young enough to have a bit of a stubbly baby-face, old enough to not be lanky, with a little meat on his bones, all tatoos and Kid Rock couture. I had to actively prevent myself from gawking like a perv. Especially when he started grinding against his girlfriend while taking his wife-beater off. I usually prefer clean-cut preppy types, but variety is the Scary Spice of life. Digging the rough trade; I loved it!

One DJ, on one of the stages, was actually playing a block of Prince songs spliced together. "Take Me With You", "When Doves Cry", "Kiss". Only he was also spinning songs by Apollonia 6, Vanity 6, Shelia E, Morris Day and the Time. I had forgotten how far the Prince regime had extended in the pop charts back when he was still making good music. Then the DJ started playing stuff like the O'Jays, Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, and even Wham. Plenty of stuff I didn't recognize, but that I liked all the same. That's the sort of DJ I like: eclectic, witty, but not out to prove to the audience that he (or she) is far more abstract and cerebral than that audience member could ever hope to be. DJs are supposed to get you dancing; they aren't supposed to drive you away with a mash-up of whale songs and field recordings of African drumming patterns. Actually, a DJ playing that would be a step up from some of the DJs I've suffered through in my checkered dance club experiences. Which is why I like to dance at weddings.

Mike started dancing to the Prince-o-phile, and this young guy came up and asked him to teach him some moves. Meanwhile, I was watching a freighter glide slowly along the Detroit River. The sun was still out, but it was getting cooler, and I thought, This is how summer nights always ought to be.

My goal had been to get to see Kevin Saunderson, Detroit Techno pioneer and Fuse-in organizer, on the main stage at 11:00 PM. None of us had any cash, though, and the vendors didn't take credit cards. So I suggested that we go get something to eat (and drink: I knew that both of them wanted some alcoholic sustenance). We ended up walking back to Greektown, near where we had parked, and we went to the New Parthenon. Around that time though, Julie started to feel ill. We ordered beers and Julie and I ordered salads, and a saganaki (flaming cheese) appetizer. When the appetizer came, Julie felt sicker, complaining that it smelled like feet. Well yeah, it did, but it was flaming cheese. She also had the same complaint about the feta on her salad. She's eaten Greek food before, of course, this was just a matter of her being really sensitive to smells. I asked if she was pregnant, and received a confident and emphatic no. Mike and I ate the cheese as fast as we could.

We went back to the car so that she could sit down and rest. We left her there to rest, hoping she would improve, and went to the Old Shillelagh, where we split a pitcher of Killians, and watched the Pistons game for half an hour. It was after 10 when we got back to the car: Julie was still feeling bad, and I suggested we just go home. I mean, it wasn't that important, and I had already been there. My goal was accomplished. And besides, she paid to fill my gas tank, as well as for dinner, so what with me paying for the tickets to get in, it ended up about even.

So I went to drop them off, and Julie asked me to come in and watch TV. So I watched two episodes off the Wonderfalls DVD, and then around 1 AM, I bid the two of them farewell.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Cut to: Monday.

Julie called at noon, awakening me, to ask if I want to go see The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; it isn't Star Wars, so I immediately yawned yes. So Julie, Mike, and Julie's half-brother Danny (who is staying with her until July) met me at the theater.

The trailers were oddly all animated films: the most intriguing of these is Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. I've been on Burton's case ever since he took the Ed Wood schtick too far with Mars Attacks and Planet of the Apes, but if there's one thing he knows how to do, it's creepy gothic, which is exactly what this film looks like. Hopefully it won't have the lousy songs that The Nightmare Before Christmas had.

The movie itself was entertaining. I read the book way back in junior high, but I don't remember most of it, so I didn't have any expectations. What was stupid was, this theater has 20 screens, and 10 of them were showing Star Wars. After our movie was done, we briefly considered sneaking into the Star Wars theater closest to our theater, that happened to be just starting, but Julie said she had to go to her dad's barbecue, and besides, that would be wrong.

I was invited over with them, so I headed there. Her dad's parties are weird, because his wife Hallina, a former ballet dancer who fought against communism in Poland and who is obsessed with Tolkein, has all these international friends. So I ended up chatting with a Mexican woman who offered to lend me some books on Spanish. Hallina eventually got fairly smashed on wine, and started entreating me to join her son picking olives and oranges in Greece next Winter; she said that she needs someone to go with him, and she wants someone she can trust. So I thought that was kind of her. I did not say what immediately came into my head when she suggested it: Good God, I hope for the sake of my student loans that I have a job by next December!

The food was good and plentiful, and I had a nice time. All in all, in spite of the foot cheese, I had a good time this weekend.

I do think that I am going to Delaware for the "testing"; I know it's highly unlikely I'll get the job, but I need interview experience. Besides, a friend of mine lives in Philadelphia, which is 30 miles from New Castle, so I can stay with him.

Song: Phreek, "Weekend"