I just found this computer print out note from my friend Micael Jonsson to me, describing a musical event from our days as swimmers at Cal State University, Bakersfield, around 1993.
These were magical times. We would pile into a friend’s car and go to downtown Bakersfield basements to see amazing bands like Jumping Trains and Rain on Jade, and this one band called Spike 1000 that almost made it big in San Francisco years later, but not quite. Then we would go through the Taco Bell drive-thru.
I have no idea where any of these people are now.
When I say computer print out, I mean, from one of those printers that used a lot of dots. Remember those? My computer came from Radio Shack.
None of us could pronounce Micael without using a Russian accent, which is weird, because Micael is from Sweden. So we called him Swede.
I wonder where he is sometimes. I hope he doesn’t mind me putting this on my blog, but I like it.
To Katie in memory of the Four Man Mosh Pit:
The other day I went to a concert in downtown Bakersfield because everybody else was going. When my friends and I reached the entrance, I could hear a ghastly noise flowing from within. “Oh,” my friend said. “The band has already started.” “Yeah, right,” I said, “when did bands start to sound like a jumbo jet at take off.” I hesitated to go inside since I think my hearing is a very precious thing which I want to keep. But, my friends said that they had been to so many concerts and they do not have any hearing problems. So I followed inside.
I rushed towards the jumbo jet sound, but got caught in a strong grip. It was the bouncer. “You’d better pay you little ferret, or the skies will fall down on you,” he said.
“I’m going to CSUB,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to pay.”
“All right, I sneaked in when I was your age, so I’ll let you sneak in, too,” the bouncer said. He let go of me and I ran inside. My friends were gone, so I bought some popcorn to stuff my ears with since they were still playing that awful music. My friends used to say thatI should give the music a chance and I will start to like it. That might be true for them, but not for me.
I sat down. Suddenly, four people walked up in front of the band to start a mosh pit. The point of mosh pitting is to turn around hitting each other and avoid listening to the music. Everybody thinks that is fun. But these guys were only four people, and that could not be fun. However, they started to move to the music. The four man mosh pit went on for about five or six seconds when one of them kicked up his knee in the face of his buddy, so his glasses flew fifteen seat rows up in the audience.
At the same time another mosh pitter got ready for a stage dive. Unfortunately, he forgot that there were only three people in the mosh pit of which one was seriously hurt with a slight concussion and another one calling 911. The fourth one, himself, bravely threw himself out over the assumed sea of mosh pitters. If you ever have dropped an egg on concrete you will know the destiny of this young maniac. I was just about to run for help when a piece of popcorn that was in my ear penetrated my ear drum. I sank to the floor in pain.
With this story I want to prevent anybody from ever starting a mosh pit with less than five people, and do not ever use popcorn as ear plugs.