Overview of the last week.

I'd like to start off with an apology right off the bat; the very last thing I want to do it write a self-loathing, "oh, whoa is me," feeling sorry for myself blog. It's not my intention to write up something that just all about 'how hard I've had it.' I'm going to try my best to recap the last week as factual as I can with some opinionated commentary, while at the same time, not making it about how bad it's been and how sorry you should feel for me. To be totally honest, this week was full of 'good thing, bad thing, good thing, bad thing, good thing,' and unfortunately ended on 'bad thing.' While some of the 'good v. bad' equally outweigh each other... others do not (like the last bad thing). BUT! This is not about whining and crying about it the events of this last week, or, adventure. It's about looking back and documenting what happened while, at the same time, looking for the very fine grey lining in the clouds.


"Going against the grain is never easy and there are always obstacles, but it's almost always worth it. Overcome and conquer." - M. Hain 


This adventure started before I had even left to scout out Austin. Leading up to leaving on Monday I had been using an apartment search engine to look for a place to live, the problem I was running into was finding something affordable while in a good part of town (if I even knew where that was), and relatively close to UT or even downtown Austin. I had found a couple of places and even had set up an appointment but afterwords would read reviews on those apartments and just read horror stories. Now I know that reading reviews do come with a grain of salt, so I had figured that I would just look at them before calling to confirm an appointment. I had also known about Craigslist having a section for people with an extra room looking for help on rent. Austin has a lot of those, it's just all about weeding out the good from the bad (and there were bad ones; One was a house on the south east side, located in a ghetto neighborhood, when I pulled up the mailbox to the house had it's number spray painted on the side. I went up to just say that I saw the place: doors were spray painted, house smelt like dog piss, the 'leasers' were these nasty film wannabe's, one looked like a very unkempt Kevin Smith about two times bigger than me ...surprisingly). There were a lot of emails sent out in this search, for every fifteen emails sent out one would respond. I had finally got in touch with a gentleman who had a big condo in downtown that had room for my king size bed and needed furniture to fill the house. We had talked quite a bit, exchanged phone numbers, talked right up until I left town. At the same time that I had been house hunting, I found a couple of ad's from bands looking for a bassist. Just as the condo owner, one band I had talked to right up until I had left Wichita. The other band I had contacted and I think I got a reply around Wednesday.


I arrived at my hotel in Austin at around 7p-ish Tuesday night. When I showed up I texted Nathan (from the condo) and Brent (from the band) with a "Hey, I'm in town. When would be a good time to meet up?" It was about 9p when I left to grab a bite after first arriving in town, I was on the highway when Brent messaged me with "Let's do it now." So I turned around, back to the hotel, grabbed my bass, plugged in the GPS and headed down to the rehearsal space. I met the band and talked for a minute before plugging into their bass rig and jamming and trying to piece together an audition. They were exhausted from the day, I was exhausted from being on the road for nine hours, it sounded like an exhausted rehearsal. After playing for about twenty or thirty minutes we wrapped up because of it being so late and we didn't want to bother neighbors. We talked a little bit and I was left a "call us when you're in town." I got back to my hotel after 11p and notice that Nathan hadn't responded back. That stayed in the back of my mind as I went down for the night. "Dear God, what if I can't find a place?"


I woke up early the next morning. Like my alarm was set for 9a and I woke up at 8a, early. I just couldn't get comfortable with the thought of "what's going to happen? Will Nathan pull through? Will I have a place to live?" I had called at about Nathan at about 10a. In the time leading up to 10a, I had been online looking for other rooms available and had sent out maybe ten emails. When I called Nathan it went to voicemail. I left a message and then sent an email immediately following. I wouldn't hear back from Nathan again. I was 9 hours from home, in a hotel, with all my eggs broken. I spent more time emailing more people and around 11a figured I should get out and get some breakfast and breathe. 


I was in Round Rock on my way to a place a friend, who used to live there, recommended for me. Under the IH-35 overpass headed northeast in the left lane on a 4 lane road with my lane continuing in front of me. The car ahead of me turned left after the light turned. I needed to go straight so I continued forward. I don't know what told me to look right at the time, but I was looking at a '03 Chevy Silverado turning toward me. Instinct kicked in and I tried to hit the gas but it was too late. The truck met me on the passenger of the car I was driving and stayed with my from the middle of passenger door to about the middle of the back passenger door. I pulled off and pulled over and got out to talk to the other driver. I asked, and apparently I was in a left turn only lane, he was in a left turn optional. I had missed the signs that said I was in the left only lane that were on the right of the road before the bridge overpass and was also blocked from it by a truck on my right. The damage to the car was only cosmetic, no damage to the interior or door handle. No tickets were issued but it was, legally, my fault.


By the time we had exchanged info, reported it, and left, it was 1p. So ...lunch, now. I had pulled off to another place I had been wanting to visit for a while, but after not being able to reach Nathan and the accident, I was numb. Food just tasted like paste, which was sad because I had been looking forward to visiting that restaurant for a while. I went back to the hotel and just sat there thinking "okay, so ...okay. What happened just now?"


The next 48 hours were of me constantly send out emails, looking up apartments, making calls, setting up appointments, scouting, scouting, scouting. 


It was during one of these appointments that I had been contacted by a second band wanting to audition me. They had set up a day long jam session and were pulling in bassists all day to narrow their search down. We set up a time and I showed up. I was introduced to the group and we talked for a bit. They were trying to figure out which person I was and even asked "Are you the dude from L.A.?!" "No ...I'm from Kansas." "Oh..." We talked for a minute and they asked if I had heard their music beforehand. They sent emails out and sent copies of their music for the potential bassist to get familiar with the sound so they could try out a few of their songs with the bassist to fill-in. I was the only one who didn't get songs sent to, and upon hearing that information a silence went over the room. "Okay, um ...I guess we can show you some of the chords and you just fill in what you can." Little did they know that this was my strong point. Listen and play. This was how I learned covers. This was how I first started playing music in bands. This was my in. One of the two guitarists showed me the basic chord structure for one of their songs, after three minutes of him showing me the parts we tried out the song. I could tell I was surprising them with how quickly I was falling into place. I can't really describe the feeling, but when all the other parts of a band are playing a song, in my head, I just know where I need to fill. It's just natural to me. I know I need to go from a F to a C# and back to the F, but I need to fill in with this part and time it with the bass drum kicks for this song. We went over three of their songs and jammed out two. I did my attempt at the Red Hot Chili Peppers version of "Higher Ground" bass line. That bass line is the song. It takes over where Stevie Wonder's organ/keys sound made the song originally. On the RHCP version that's a slap crazy bass line. Lots of moving and funk bass in that and with the right band or group of people of even show has the potential to take a vibe from mediocre to electric if you can land that bass line just right. It all depends on the landing. Off by a little, it's a joke. I couldn't be more on. The drummer was on the back deck smoking a cigarette and came running in as soon as I started that. It was a winner by a long shot, definitely left a lasting impression with the group. We wrapped up and talked for a long time by the car. I told them my story and the crisis I had been dealing with since I rolled into town. One of the singers, Gus, really helped me out with info on where I should look, what side of town, even had a realtor friend who would be able to help me out. Throughout the rest of the house hunting ordeal, Gus would regularly pop into the picture and check in on what progress I had made and gave me his two cents on either I place I was looking at or places I should look to. Even after I found a place (spoiler alert) he told me it was a good find and even told me there was a chance for me to audition again after I moved down.


It was Friday. I had my bags packed and was ready to check out of the hotel. This was the last day, something had to work. Tension was in the air. I either had to find a place or ...find a hotel and give it one more day. (I was out of clean clothes, thats why tension was in the air. Lots and lots of smelly tension) I had a couple of appointments with someone with a room and an apartment, but both places just weren't clicking. That inescapable feeling of 'this isn't good. Hold out. Hold out!' was just knotting up my stomach. I had just left a place and went to a Starbucks to make use of their WiFi. When I had first started looking I had accidentally emailed an apartment realtor and he sent a personal message with a phone number. When I was in Starbucks I saw another ad of his online and figured that he would be my best shot. I called him and introduced myself and he immediately remembered who I was from the week before. I had told him about having a place figured out, then getting to Austin and the owner going MIA and me spending a week in heavy search mode and not finding anything. He told me to meet him immediately and help find me a residency. His name was Louie. Louie is a character in every since of the word. He's bald stout fellow and rocks these thick framed circle glasses. Like looks like a cartoon characters round glasses. Just a goofy, but a genuinely nice fellow. I gave some of my information and what I was looking for. He made a couple calls to some places and asked me some more info. I let it out that I was a musician and he took that information very seriously. I thought he might have been leading me on a bit, but after a while I learned that he was serious. I was a musician and that was important to him for his search. He asked what all I played and made a call. 


We found an opening at this place called The Metropolis. I had actually passed by this place once before and it looked funky. It has these 1950's-60's cars sitting on property facing traffic. The cars are bright colors and sort of rusted, so there would be a pink car, blue, green, orange, and behind the cars and fence and in front of the building were these huge metal letters that spelt out 'METROPOLIS.' The buildings are multi-colored as well. Every ten feet or so would be a different color on the building, as well as 'METROPOLIS' painted into the colors. Palm trees out front and around the property. The property looks like an 1960's-70's hotel that should be close to some beach side somewhere. The funky coloring continues inside of the property and even in the rooms themselves. The rooms, multi-colored walls ceiling and floors, all concrete. Jacuzzi bathtub with a huge bathroom. Huge bedroom, living room, everything. We found a 1 bedroom unit, 800ft2, for $625 monthly. 


...


Paperwork please! 


App fee was paid, Deposit is in the mail and I should get the final word Tuesday about a move in date.


The headache was finally over, I have a place in Austin Texas and the move became that much more real. Time to unclench a bit and head back home. It was 4p when I left which meant it would be 3a before I made it home. Unfortunately, it wasn't the end of my roller coaster.


Dad and I had traded vehicles in order for me to drive Grandma's car that save on fuel mileage. It was about 9:30p-10p when I got a call with "Something catastrophic happened to your truck." Dad was on his way to meet with some co-workers when he pulled onto the highway. In the middle of the acceleration/merging process he experienced a loud explosion. After the explosion he heard knocking and say a trail of blue smoke following him. He was able to pull off the highway and over to gas station's parking lot, about a miles worth of driving before finally stopping. He made mention that he had experienced this before when he was younger and it sounded like the engine had thrown a rod. Usually, before the bearings give on a rod you hear knocking in the engine which is a sign that maintenance needed soon. There were no warning signs. The oil pressure light didn't turn on, there was no knocking noise. He accelerated and then, Boom!


I spent the last five hours of the drive trying to figure out what I had done to be given the ride that I had the last week. Highs and lows that left me just numb. I couldn't be sad, I was just off. I couldn't take anymore emotional turmoil I was just a void.


I made it home after 3a and slept for about seven hours, got up and met with Dad to look at the truck and figure out where the rod came out. The only way throwing a rod can be decently alright is if it's thrown through the oil pan at the bottom of the engine. If that happens there is a possibility of saving the engine. If the rod is thrown anywhere else it has enough force to shoot out, through the engine. We retraced Dads steps in the day light and found no debris. It either didn't come out or was cleared off turning the night. We made it to the truck and inspected the engine. It took a while but we did find the hole ...through the engine. The engine is scrapped. 


There are many different ways to look at this. 1) Thank goodness I didn't take it with me this last week. 2) Glad it didn't happened during the move. 3) Glad it didn't happen a week after I had moved down. If it had to happen, 4) glad it happened up here.


The replacement engine could cost up to $4k with labor included. A plan devised is to get a bicycle and continue with the move. It could be up to two months or more to get the truck fixed and either I take the truck back use it in Austin, or sell it and I'll get another vehicle with better fuel mileage. Personally, I'm looking for a motorcycle.


This isn't an essay that ends with a 'glimmer of hope' message. Right now, this is just where I'm at. I made plans, life made plans; we're meeting in the middle somewhere. But the good that comes from this is I continue forward. Big steps were made, few steps were backtracked, but the momentum is still going forward. I'm just hoping that through it all this roller coaster of 'good thing, bad thing, good thing, bad thing' lands back on 'good thing.' 


And last's more than five hours, this time.


-Kevin


p.s. please take some time and check out the new apartment I'm moving into at The Metropolis.