Page 964 – Bohemian | Sonoma & Napa Counties

Feb. 9: The Jacka at the Phoenix Theater

Noted

Estefany Gonzalez

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Feb 6, 2013

Feb. 9: The Jacka at the Phoenix Theater

There are countless reasons one cancels a show. (Heck, Morrissey has been making a late-career tradition out of it lately!) But with lyrics that offer up myriad theories, one can only guess why independent Bay Area rap sensation the Jacka had to bow out of his Nov. 24 date last year in Petaluma. No matter—he’s back this weekend with Husalah to brings hits like “100 Out the Clip” and “Everyday Is a Weekend” to a poppin’ crowd ready for some heavy-hitting rhymes. Be there on Saturday, Feb. 9, at the Phoenix Theater. 201 E. Washington St., Petaluma. 8pm. $25. 707.762.3565.

Feb. 8: Bill Cosby at the Wells Fargo Center

Noted

Estefany Gonzalez

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Feb 6, 2013

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Feb. 8: Bill Cosby at the Wells Fargo Center

King of random noises that no one can quite understand, television star and veteran standup performer Bill Cosby returns to the Wells Fargo Center this week. Parent-approved Cosby would have been a shoo-in to deliver the free Jell-O pudding promised to distraught San Francisco 49ers fans this week—if only he could have arrived in town sooner! At 75, Cosby still retains his insightful stance on Thanksgiving, dentists and children, though don’t expect the famous sweater; he’s usually seen in public wearing printed hoodies these days. Follow his wild mind on Friday, Feb. 8, at Wells Fargo Center. 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. 8pm. $69—$99. 707.546.3600.

Feb. 7-10: February Rambles at Terrapin Crossroads

Noted

Estefany Gonzalez

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Feb 6, 2013

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Feb. 7-10: February Rambles at Terrapin Crossroads

Q: What’s a ramble? A: It’s essentially a one-night stand without the guilt. Midnight rambles were originally started by Levon Helm of the Band, held at Helm’s studio known as “the Barn.” (As the nights went on, Helm once quipped, “the jokes would get a little funnier and the prettiest dancer would really get down and shake it a few times.”) Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead keeps Helm’s tradition of rambles alive at Terrapin Crossroads, where you can catch him this week playing alongside Jackie Greene, Neal Casal, Tony Leone and Adam MacDougall. Thursday—Saturday, Feb. 7—10, at Terrapin Crossroads. 100 Yacht Club Drive, San Rafael. 7pm. $65. 415.542.2773.

Thursday Thrust

Music

Jacquelynne Ocaña

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Feb 6, 2013

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Electronic dance records were once sold on vinyl. Back then, “house heads” could explore everything from deep tribal bass to lounge house and Eurotrance on open turntables tied to giant headphones at record stores. If you remember the Santa Rosa store Harmonics or Oakland’s Homebase, you remember the days.

The landscape has changed dramatically since the late ’90s rave scene, but the rhythm continues to seduce. Sebastopol native Patrick Malone has spent 15 years cultivating his knowledge of electronic music. From raver to promoter to talent buyer, Malone is a one-man party planner, and a damn good one at that. A trained audio engineer who performs under the moniker DJ Malarkey, Malone is the founder of Juke Joint, the Thursday-night showcase that put Sebastopol on the electronic music map.

For more than a decade, Malone has been a fixture at what is now known as the Hopmonk Tavern, from its days as the Powerhouse and the Sebastopol Brewing Company. He drove U-Haul trailers into Santa Rosa just to borrow the equipment capable of producing the sound needed for electronic shows.

When the brewery was bought by Dean Biersch, the newly inaugurated Hopmonk Tavern handed Malone the role of talent buyer in 2008, and “the Abbey” has since become his kingdom of noise. “It was a dream come true for someone like me, in my mid-20s,” he says, “to have someone say, ‘Here’s a budget, let’s put in a serious, real-deal sound system.'”

Changing up formats, too, has had a major impact. Malone began experimenting with new genres, incorporating funk and break beats, hip-hop and Latin to create palatability for the small-town vibe. Over the years, he’s added a number of cultural experiments, from the risqué burlesque variety show Cabaret de Caliente to live Edwardian Gypsy bands.

The décor, too, transforms with each weekly event. His 12 consecutive years at Burning Man have leant a unique habitat hardly matched outside the City. Most of all, in keeping with Juke Joint’s tradition of top-notch electronica, Malone continues to host some of the biggest international DJs. (Last month in the 200-capacity room, he booked Bonobo, who headlines the Warfield, the San Francisco venue that’s over 10 times Hopmonk’s size, in May.)

Now, six years later and bringing back their first-ever guest, Juke Joint presents genre-bending genius J Boogie on Feb. 7 for a night of indulgence and dance. Bonus: be there for a major announcement guaranteed to stir up the electronic music scene for good.

Here It Comes

News

Gabe Meline

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Feb 6, 2013

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A huge five-day festival with some of music’s biggest names is coming to Napa in May. BottleRock Napa Valley, running May 8–12 at the Napa Valley Expo, is easily the largest festival in Napa Valley’s history, and organizers are planning for up to 40,000 people to attend.

That crowd estimate is due to the stellar lineup, which includes the Black Keys, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Kings of Leon, the Zac Brown Band, Furthur, Jane’s Addiction, the Flaming Lips, the Black Crowes, Alabama Shakes, Jackson Browne, Ben Harper, Primus, Dirty Projectors, Bad Religion, the Shins, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Dwight Yoakam, Iron & Wine, Andrew Bird, Brandi Carlile, Best Coast, Rodrigo y Gabriela, the Wallflowers, Mavis Staples, Justin Townes Earle and many others.

Macklemore currently has the No. 1 song on the Billboard charts, “Thrift Shop.” The Black Keys are nominated for an Album of the Year Grammy and will perform as part of this week’s awards broadcast. The vast majority of the festival’s other acts are strong headliners in their own right.

“There’s no disguising the fact that it’s mammoth,” says BottleRock general manager Joseph Lillis. “If this is the success that it looks to be, the whole valley’s going to be packed.”

Success does appear imminent for BottleRock. On the day the lineup was announced, the festival’s website crashed. Last Sunday, when a $50-off special was available for three- and four-day passes (normally priced at $299 and $399, respectively), organizers had to cap the promotion after 4,000 fans quickly took advantage of the deal. Thousands more presale passes have been sold, and the general public on-sale date is not until Sunday, Feb. 10.

Perhaps most impressive is that BottleRock is an entirely local effort. Unlike most other festivals of its scope, it is unaffiliated with larger promotion companies like Live Nation, Goldenvoice, Another Planet or C3 Presents. Lillis, from Sausalito, grew up in Napa. The talent buying was handled by Sheila Groves-Tracey, from Petaluma, a 26-year veteran of local concert booking. The startup capital is from investors who are nearly all local, and the festival founders are Gabe Meyers and Bob Vogt, both dyed-in-the-wool Napa locals.

“My family’s been here since the ’40s,” says Meyers. “My grandma’s still here, my grandfather was a contractor in the Napa Valley for his entire life. My dad’s construction company, Meyers Construction, is celebrating 53 years right now. Bob’s been here since 1981. So yeah, we’re pretty local.”

Meyers jokes that the idea of a major festival came to him “when I was in utero at Altamont.” (He was born in August 1970.) Originally, Meyers planned the festival to take advantage of various live music venues around town, like the Napa Valley Opera House, the Uptown Theatre, Silo’s and others, similar to South by Southwest in Austin or Noise Pop in San Francisco. But in friendly talks with larger festival promoter AEG, Meyers explains, “they said, ‘You guys are crazy. You’ve got this incredible 26-acre facility with flushable toilets and power and buildings you can use and great infrastructure. Just use that.'”

The Napa Valley Expo has limited parking, and both Meyers and Lillis say there have been ongoing talks with the city and county to address the music, which will end at 10pm each night, as well as the influx of visitors. Last week, locals were encouraged through a $70-off promotion to walk, carpool or bike to the festival; those 700 locals-only deals were gone within an hour of their announcement. Shuttles will be made available, explains Lillis, likely from sites such as Napa Pipe and perhaps as far away as the city of Davis.

“The last thing I want is for anyone from Napa County driving to this festival,” says Meyers.

Meyers stresses the charitable aspect of the festival, in which 10 percent of the net profit will go to autism causes. (Vogt’s 21-year-old son Will has autism.) Additionally, $6 from every ticket and $1 from every beverage sold will go to various nonprofit community partners, including Hands Across the Valley, Friends of the Napa River, the Napa Land Trust, the Peggy Herman Neuroscience Center and the parks and recreation department. Previously, Meyers’ company WillPower Entertainment had promoted concerts to benefit injured Giants fan Bryan Stow.

A comedy lineup is expected to be announced soon, and naturally, food and wine vendors will be a large part of the festival as well. But for music fans, the lineup of big names is the real draw. One fan’s post on BottleRock’s Facebook page summed up the initial reaction: “Is this real?”

Iron Horse Vineyards

Swirl

James Knight

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Feb 6, 2013

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Overheard: One summer afternoon, at a winery several miles from here, two couples are enjoying wine under a canopy of leaves. One is younger, the other, parental. They’re talking about bubbles. “Then there’s the ‘China bubble,'” the elder man continues, derisively. “Oh, right,” the presumed son-in-law snorts knowingly, eagerly. “The China bubble.”

In wine as in other business, the world’s second largest economy continues to be the object both of big claims and pithy pooh-poohing. Meanwhile, Iron Horse Vineyards have released some China bubbles of their own—whether to hedge their bets, stay in the game or just celebrate the Year of the Snake.

Some facts about snake: the boar is your enemy, the cock and ox are friends. The Chinese Cuvée debuted in the Year of the Horse, natch. Only the third iteration, the current release dates from 2004, around the time we last dropped in here. Back then, the “tasting room” was just a warped slap of oak resting on a couple of barrels; things have changed. There’s a shed roof. More barrels. Outdoor heaters. It’s gotten so downright comfy that an old farm cat now creeps, squinting and arthritic, out of the vineyard at 3:30pm daily to make herself at home. In other words, it’s the same old rustic wine shed, and that is what’s so special about it.

That, and top-notch sparkling, no fooling around. The 2004 Chinese Cuvée ($98), discounted throughout February, is a pale 50/50 blend with austere aromas, elegant froth and a crisp finish that says “Brut.” Dialed down a bit since the original blend was created for the 1986 showdown of Gipper vs. Gorby, the 2008 Russian Cuvée ($40) has a golden raisin character, the finish being otherwise nearly as brisk as the Reykjavik wind.

Today’s crowd-pleaser is the 2008 Winter’s Cuvée ($50). Spiked with a half-mil of Pinot Noir brandy in the dosage, it’s Squirrel Nutkin-nutty and just slightly on the sweet side. The pale copper-hued 2008 Wedding Cuvée ($38) fills the mouth with a riot of fine bubbles, leaping up as if it can’t wait for the toast. But it’s the 2007 Ocean Reserve Blanc de Blancs ($40) for me, with its enchanting, yeasty-floral aroma like God’s own fresh-baked shortbread, lean, grapefruit-spritzer of a finish, and 10 percent donation to support sustainable fisheries.

Sparklers like these drive people to boldness. “I’ve seen people drop on one knee in the driveway,” says tasting room manager Lisa Macek, “and propose in front of a crowd.” Listen up snake: beware of boar.

Iron Horse Vineyards, 9786 Ross Station Road, Sebastopol. Open daily, 10am–4:30pm. Tasting fee, $15–$20. 707.887.1507.

Self-Styled Selznick

Theater

David Templeton

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Feb 6, 2013

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Ron Hutchinson’s clever 2004 comedy Moonlight and Magnolias takes a Hollywood footnote and expands it into inspired intellectual slapstick. Directed by Charles Siebert and presented by the Sixth Street Playhouse, the play takes place inside the office of legendary film producer David O. Selznick (a blustering Dodds Delzell, pictured).

Three weeks into production of Gone with the Wind, Selznick has fired his director, thrown out the script and kidnapped a new team of collaborators. Director Victor Flemming (Paul Huberty, adopting a kind of crass, flamboyant cynicism) is locked in the office with reluctant screenwriter Ben Hecht (an appropriately world-weary Adam Syd), and given five days to come up with a new script for Margaret Mitchell’s 1,100-word novel—which Hecht has never read.

That much is basically true.

What actually took place in that office over those five furious days was probably not what happens in the play, with Selznick and Flemming acting out the novel, as an increasingly delirious Hecht taps at his typewriter. But historical accuracy matters not—the banter and debate, well-played by this seasoned trio of actors, makes for an illuminating, funny clash of creative minds.

‘Moonlight and Magnolias’ runs Thursday–Sunday through Feb. 17 at Sixth Street Playhouse. 52 W. Sixth St., Santa Rosa. Thursday–Saturday at 8pm; 2pm matinees on Sundays. $15–$25. 707.523.4185.

Letters to the Editor: February 6, 2013

Letters to the Editor

Bohemian.com

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Feb 6, 2013

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Cutting Down Redwoods

The tree removal along 101 at taxpayer expense and the profit of Ghilotti Brothers is complicated and disturbing (“Deadwood Hwy.,” Feb. 6). Does the removal of carbon-sequestering, mature redwood trees justify the increased vehicle traffic and carbon emissions of a wider highway? Tree removal along Highway 101 is not confined to Sonoma County; I witnessed a tree company (who may have been Atlas Tree Service) removing mature eucalyptus trees near Mountain View last fall. It’s true that highway construction brings many benefits to our local area, and money has been set aside to plant trees elsewhere. But the fact remains that large, mature trees are already doing the work of sequestering carbon from our crowded freeways, producing oxygen and abating storm water. We should by all means continue planting trees, especially in our growing suburban areas, but old, mature trees are already doing a lot of work. I cringe when I think about the carbon it takes just to remove them: gas for the tree crews’ lift trucks and chainsaws, and gas to transport the lumber. And all that so we can have a quicker ride to work in the morning in our cars.

—Ian Herrick, Certified Arborist

Sebastopol

Breeding Violence

It should be obvious to even the casual student of history that all aggressively expansionist and exploitative nations end up doing unto themselves as they do unto others. Wreaking violence upon others is a toxin, a pollution. “Hate multiplies hate; violence multiplies violence,” said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—and it inevitably infects the population back home. Check out daily life in imperial Rome, 16th-century Spain, Wellington-era England and Stalinist Russia, among others. We suffer from so much violence here in the United States because our decision-makers, bent on maximizing wealth and power, have inflicted violence on innocent victims around the world: native North Americans, Africans, Central and South Americans, Vietnamese, Cambodians, Iraqis, Afghans. Small wonder that violence has become the chief hallmark of our public entertainments, or that mass murder is intrinsic to our existence.

—J. B. Grant

Sebastopol

Luxury Bowling in Napa

Just wanted to make sure you knew that Crush Ultra Lounge at the Meritage Resort and Spa in Napa also offers bowling, along with drinks and food (“Late Night at the Lanes,” Feb. 6). Crush Ultra Lounge is open to the public daily with its six luxury bowling lanes beginning at 11am daily; it closes at 1am Monday through Thursday, 2am Friday and Saturday, and midnight on Sunday. For more details, see www.themeritageresort.com.

—Andrew Bradley

Roseville

Peace is Possible

Many people believe that peace is a pie-in-the-sky idea, that war will always be with us, that violence is a part of our humanness. For centuries, people felt the same way about slavery and the lot of women until a few people spoke and wrote and grew movements of people who all changed their beliefs—our beliefs.

Society’s view of violence has also changed radically. My mother, Del Martin, wrote the first American book on domestic violence, Battered Wives. Out of that a movement grew that changed beliefs, attitudes, services and the law. I try to continue her work to eliminate violence through the Peace Alliance and the Campaign for a U.S. Department of Peacebuilding to nurture a culture of peace from the group up and the top down.

When we know better, we do better. We invite you to learn more about the Sonoma County Season for Nonviolence at www.mettacenter.org/season.

—Kendra Mon

Petaluma

Dept. of Cosmos

Having absolutely nothing to do with Mercury being retrograde, a renegade lunar eclipse or any other stew of heavenly omens, we mistakenly ran the wrong Free Will Astrology column last week. Rob Brezsny knows which week is which; we just had a small karmic conundrum.

Thus, we are running last week’s column in this issue. We apologize for the error, and we’ll be back on track next week.

—The ed.

A Libra, Wouldn’t You Know It

Write to us at le*****@******an.com.

Our Voice

Open Mic

Desiree Poindexter

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Feb 6, 2013

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I still remember the first time that I stumbled upon community media television and radio, an experience that completely opened up my world. I heard new music that inspired me, found out about community events that intrigued me and watched local public affairs and artistic programming that informed me about what was happening in my community—all programming that I couldn’t find anywhere else. I was, and continue to be, hooked.

In this time of information, community media remains vital as one of the last standing avenues of free speech available to inform, engage and give voice to an area’s diverse communities. No strings attached; everyone’s invited. Media centers such as our local Community Media Center of the North Bay (CMCNB) serve as a centralized media hub providing media services, equipment, training and opportunities to local residents, educators, organizations, government entities and four community cable public, education and government (PEG) channels. With technological advances, community media centers now also serve as a way to promote community events and information locally and internationally.

Community media benefits our local community in so many ways. I have seen numerous nonprofits, schools and government departments utilize videos created through the media center to apply and achieve grant funding for programs. I have seen people that have been trained at the CMCNB Youth Summer Video Camp go on to a professional career as a videographer. In my experience with CMCNB and new local community radio station KWTF Radio, I have seen countless individuals and organizations intimidated by media technology receive media literacy and technology training, and gain the expertise and confidence to create their own media to share their stories.

We as a community have a lot more amazing stories, information, and ideas to share and we have an amazing place to do it. The future of CMCNB is in jeopardy pending the outcome of the Santa Rosa City Council decisions currently being determined. Let’s work together as a community and find a way to keep our community media outlets and center going, help them grow and allow them to thrive.

Desirée Poindexter is a Santa Rosa resident, the admin, HR and PR coordinator for the Community Media Center of the North Bay, and board member of new local community radio station KWTF.net.

Open Mic is a weekly op/ed feature in the Bohemian. We welcome your contribution. To have your topical essay of 350 words considered for publication, write op*****@******an.com.

Worst. Date. Ever.

Features

Bohemian.com

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Feb 6, 2013

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We asked for your bad-date stories, and boy, did you ever deliver. With a total of 16 real-life dates gone awry, submitted by readers, we here at the Bohemian have been gifted with sad anecdotes of Febreze-in-the-face spraying; meeting for the first time on an airport tarmac in a wedding dress; asking one’s daughter to call mid-date with an “emergency”; being surrounded by rowdy drunk sports fans on a bus and going to a Tommy Castro show.

But only three stories can make the cut, and we salute Flynn Alexander, Peter Danovich and Dani Burlison for bringing the goods. Congratulations to these winners, who have won their choice of a dinner at Ca’Momi in Napa, Hilltop in Novato, Downtown Joe’s in Napa or Pack Jack’s in Sebastopol—may it help your next date to be much better.

Also, an honorable mention goes to Mon Alisa Sydenham for her story of finding Mr. Right—and then, under his shirt, finding his swastika tattoos. Ouch.

On with the bad dates!

INSTANT JOES

By Flynn Alexander

My personals ad-venture was working too well. I’d instantly poofed up three fearlessly vulnerable, awake, strong and communicative men who were craving a peer and anxious to share their profoundly insightful, disturbing spiritual dilemmas about the female nature. I was impressed and stunned.

Ending a relationship Monday night, I had answered Joe No. 1’s ad Tuesday morning:

RESTLESS FERAL PSYCHIC

Fast-walking, straight-talking, versatile wonderdude seeks dreamy angel of harmony for mischief & healing adventures in nature, art, tunes, dance, touch, LTR magic.

I was seeking quick distraction from the heartbreak of having pushed away my rare and exquisite beloved for pushing me away after every deep connection one too many times, cursing his resistance to what he so badly wanted and what his soul had kept pushing him back to me for.

I was totally unprepared to discover that the world may actually be full of aware, confident, accomplished, emotionally articulate and possibly sexually masterful men who can’t find any women who match their evolvement.

Joe No. 1 had replied with a three-page, single-spaced letter describing how an anguished childhood birthed his deepest spiritual questions and blueprint for ideal love.

He drove one and a half hours and greeted me with a gift of broccoli. I said, “Oh, do you have a garden?” He said no.

During a walk, I was impressed by his first-date audacity to tell me that my shadow made me look like a Klingon. It was obvious, though, that he had sent a picture from 10 years earlier. I guess a shamelessly exposed interior doesn’t automatically imply an inhibition-free exterior.

Back indoors, musty no-chemistry permeated the air and tales of his 10-year heroin isolation evaporated any remaining cosmic edge I’d optimistically anticipated. To punctuate with finality, instead of being treated to a “soulful and Ray Charles–ish” piano performance, I had to endure torturous unfunky whining that made me struggle to keep my life force from draining as oxygen tried to flee the room.

Upon leaving, with wide eyes and effervescence, he professed how totally worthwhile it had been to make the long drive—but wasn’t sure when he’d ever do it again.

This farewell was a relief but left the sour task of trying to reconcile the hard evidence for rare quality I had poofed against the harsh reality that materialized. Same with Joes No. 2 and 3.

Turns out Joe-poofing isn’t that easy.

LEAVING LAS VEGAS

By Dani Burlison

About three months into a short-lived relationship, I made the mistake of going on an extended date of sorts: traveling to his sister’s wedding with him. In Las Vegas. In July.

Things were already a little shaky with Mr. Anger Issues, in part because he constantly suggested I change careers (to work for him) and that maybe I give up work altogether in order to make him some babies. I made it clear that I love my career and that as much as I love the two children I already have, there was no way in hell I was having any more children. Especially when Mr. Anger Issues was unsure about whether or not he loved me (he once said I had too much student loan debt for him to fall in love with me).

[page]

So we’re in Vegas. Sweating and drunk from the sidewalk mojitos we’re pounding to fight the mid-July heat and the awkwardness that arose when his family members began asking about any potential wedding plans we were making (remember: three-month relationship). We push our way to the air-conditioned bar in our hotel when one of my kids calls me. Mr. Anger Issues tells me how much he likes her and how much he wants kids of his own.

“Yeah, I’m not having any more kids,” I remind him.

“We’re really going to fucking talk about this right now? Right fucking here, goddammit?”

I look at the pitcher of margaritas in front of us, take a huge, brain-freezing gulp and quietly ask him for the hotel key.

“If you leave me alone in this bar right now I will fucking hate you forever,” he scowls.

I drink more, start a conversation with the drunk Scottish construction worker who has taken his place next to me at the bar and eventually return to the room with Mr. Anger Issues, who stays up all night watching recaps of the Tour de France on TV.

He doesn’t speak to me the next morning and, nervous about our flight home, I search for the Xanax in my bag. As we pull into the airport, I begin sweating and run to the restroom vomiting, realizing too late that I have accidentally taken his pain medication. Turns out I’m allergic to Vicodin.

Two hours of crying and dry-heaving later, I emerge from the restroom. He glares at me and offers this:

“Well, I don’t want kids with you anyway. Look at yourself, you’re like a crackhead prostitute.”

A CLASSY JOINT

By Peter Danovich

San Francisco, 1976. Smoking marijuana in the street was in vogue, and transplanted females declared their independent, feminine, we-are-women voices. San Francisco was a sexual cookie jar with ready and willing beautiful women. Within five minutes of conversation, it was the norm that the f-bomb would flower as a noun, pronoun and adjective while offering a joint. Their modus operandi was “why wait!” Wining and dining was not necessary. You were their hook-up selection for the night. Why wait, indeed.

I left a $70,000-a-year job in Chicago, came to San Francisco without a job, let my hair grow out to a naturally curly afro and added a mustache. Quite a new look. I can best summarize my initial San Francisco beginnings as someone always offering me a drink, marijuana, hashish, taking their clothes off, or my looking for a parking place.

My Swedish friend and hair stylist, Anita, worked at I. Magnin and cut my hair every two months. My “worst date” had its origin at the I. Magnin boutique. Anita’s co-worker, an absolutely gorgeous, tall brunette from Ohio named Denise, shared an immediate attraction with me, leading to our one and only date.

Denise lived in the Pacific Heights area. After parking my car, I stepped in dog shit. Nice beginning.

Denise looked ravishing and greeted me with a welcoming kiss. Off to dinner at my favorite restaurant, Vintner’s on Union Street. We smoked a joint before going in. Normally, smoking a joint leads to enhanced appetites and a loosening of inhibitions with free-flowing conversation. Interspersed, I constantly visualized Denise naked in my bed. I couldn’t wait.

I was a “happy stoner,” the type whose gaps in conversation retention were quite frequent, accompanied by that dopey stoned look. Denise was the opposite. The joint didn’t affect her in the least as she talked on and on in all seriousness. My brain cells couldn’t keep up. Being so stoned led her to verbally dress me down multiple times during dinner.

“Peter, do you understand what I’m talking about?”

“Denise, your conversation is deep and wordy, and by the time you finish, I’ve only retained the last part of what you just said. I’m sorry.”

There was a deep, cold chill in the air after that. Conversation was at a standstill. Maybe she’d forget the dinner and share my thoughts of saving the date by having sex at my apartment.

Not a chance. She walked alone to her apartment without a “Good night.” It was my worst date. If Denise was writing her story, it would mirror mine—her worst date ever.

I’ve completely forgotten Denise’s looks, our dinner and conversation, but, for some reason, I’ve never forgotten that smell of dog shit on the sole of my shoe.

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Your Letters, Dec. 24

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Feb. 9: The Jacka at the Phoenix Theater

Feb. 8: Bill Cosby at the Wells Fargo Center

Feb. 7-10: February Rambles at Terrapin Crossroads

Thursday Thrust

Here It Comes

Iron Horse Vineyards

Self-Styled Selznick

Letters to the Editor: February 6, 2013

Cutting Down Redwoods

Breeding Violence

Luxury Bowling in Napa

Peace is Possible

Dept. of Cosmos

Our Voice

Worst. Date. Ever.

Feb. 9: The Jacka at the Phoenix Theater

Feb. 8: Bill Cosby at the Wells Fargo Center

Feb. 7-10: February Rambles at Terrapin Crossroads

Thursday Thrust

Here It Comes

Iron Horse Vineyards

Self-Styled Selznick

Letters to the Editor: February 6, 2013

Our Voice

Worst. Date. Ever.