Homeless Folk B. Goode Too

I want to thank you for getting this far into my blog.  I'm not sure how many people I intimidated with my introduction but I am glad you are at least here, continuing to read my posts. Oh, and don't worry the Flabbinzeus who drinks the Frakenjuice in his flabbinsuit while doing the flabbinzoot will be explained very shortly.  These things cannot be rushed and in order for me to allow you to understand the Flabbinzeus in all his glory, you have to hear some frakenjuice-like tales.

Anyway, this past Sunday, I was hanging around my apartment and got bored of playing Biolabs Outbreak after level 24 and decided to google some events going on in San Francisco, where I am currently living for the summer. Now, for those of you who haven't visited or have heard anything about San Francisco, I wish to introduce you to some quotes that perfectly summarize the essence of this city. 

"It's an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco. It must be a delightful city and possess all the attractions of the next world." (Oscar Wilde)

"The Bay Area is so beautiful, I hesitate to preach about heaven while I'm here." (Billy Graham)

and finally...To quote a famous Armenian-American writer who's frakenjuice writing inspired the people during the Great Depression: "If you're alive, you can't be bored in San Francisco. If you're not alive, San Francisco will bring you to life." (William Saroyan)

There is an unexplainable energy that radiates from this city; from the liberal smells and sights of the Haight district to the prestigious shops of the Financial district to even the Bay docks where Otis Redding once pondered his self-worth and true meaning of success just a few days before his death. Yet, it would merely be a cliche if I were to talk about the rich history or even about my general perceptions of this city. So, to give you a taste of this splendiferous and eclectic place, I give you a snippet of a Sunday afternoon out on the town: "Homeless Folk B. Goode Too."

Every year, The Fillmore Jazz Festival draws about 90,000 people to the historic street of Fillmore for its 2-day summer festival.  It was here that Louis Armstrong saw Charlie Parker perform at one of the local jazz clubs (the only recorded time both artists have simultaneously been in the same venue), a teenage Maya Angelou once worked in a record shop, and pop (or anti-pop) idols such as Jerry Garcia, Janis Joplin, and Allen Ginsberg frequented the area for creative inspiration from the general culture of Fillmore during the 60's. The list of artists and celebrities that have experienced a jazzy night out on Fillmore St. are extensive. 

So, at about 11:30am on Sunday, I decided to add to the madness. I hopped on the 38 Geary bus and made my way to Fillmore St., merely expecting to hear some interesting music and maybe eat some tasty treats (I read online that they had teriyaki chicken kabobs).

I exited the bus at Fillmore St. and made my way past the Anchor Steam Brewery kiosk which sold inebriating beverages for $4, a photo-art stand portraying pictures of wildlife from all over California which had an incredibly clear picture of a tiger, underwater, angrily swatting at the camera, and  after the California Sheriffs Department informational booth I finally saw an outdoor stage with a jazz band preparing to play their next song.  The figure at the lead microphone was a grey-haired African-American with a saxophone around his neck in a snazzy blue suit.  He was in the process of thanking everyone for coming out as well as promoting his Bay area weekly radio show (every tuesday from 9am-12pm on 89.5 KPOO!)

In front of the stage was a large opening and behind the open space was an area carpeted with astroturf, white chairs, and a wide array of various types of people sitting in the chairs or standing in the open area waiting for the band's next song.  There were canopy heads (people with large floppy hats), furry breasts (men in extremely classy suits with some sort of pretentiously flamboyant creation emerging from their breast pocket), people with swollen hands and glazed eyes, people in 60's rock band t-shirts, collar poppers, women with solid color shirts, visors, and fanny packs.  There were baby boomers, people from the Nixon generation, hair-band generation, jean-short generation, and even little Iraqi Conflict generation children jumping around like they had just seen the great Flabbinzeus himself!

As the lead guitar exploded into the famous introduction of Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode," I witnessed a sight that can truly only be described as the Frakenjuice. 

There are a few times in life where one witnesses an event so profound that they are glad sunglasses were created to hide the wetness which involuntarily pushes through the eyes and drips down reddened cheeks. As I witnessed the pariahs of society with the swollen hands, the furry breasts, the canopy heads, collar poppers, the yellow suits, the green suits, the blue-green suits, fanny pack ladies, Iraqi Conflict kids, and the jean-jackets twirl around with each other mixing with the cloud-less 70 degree San Franciscan summer day; an exorbitant amount of elation filled my loins.  In one section of the dance floor a homeless lady with dirt-stained jeans and a surprisingly clean white t-shirt was being twirled around by a fanny pack lady.  In another area, a ordinary couple in their early 40's were dancing as if they had just gotten married.  In another spot a lime-green suit was doing the twist opposite a lady with dreadlocks and military boots while a overly excited short and skinny white man, who seemed like he was about to take off his cargo shorts at various times of his "dancing," jumped around as if he had just won the Powerball Mega-Million lotto and had a smile on his face that I have only seen on exited autistic adults.  Then the band concluded their arrangement and immediately began another upbeat song with blasting trumpets meshed with the smooth sounds of the lead sax.

As I was expecting to see the crowd break up and take a break; more pariahs, yellow suits, heavy metal shirts, visor ladies, popped collars, curly-haired children, and drunken jort wearing folk flooded the dance floor. The next progression of events was a sight I only thought existed in musicals, overly dramatic movie scenes, and Caddyshack.  Out of the depths of absurdity arose a scene that immediately had me apologizing to God for ever doubting that random dance scenes in movies were a moronic and cheesy way of heightening dramatic effect and brings the audience out of a realistic mood. Universe 1- Me o.

As the band's horns kept blasting away and the steady bass and drum beat was rolling, the entire crowd of mixed personalities began doing a synchronized dance that slightly resembled the electric slide.  I was shocked when I saw a "too-cool-for-dancing" teenager with a black and white dragon on his shirt immediately jump into the crowd and start moving with the flow. Even a homeless man that had long stringy hair, very thin arms, a black Alice Cooper metal band t-shirt, and with circular lesions on his legs and forearms, conformed to the crowd and began to move back, forth, and sideways with the other people, only deviating slightly from the perfect flow of the rest.  With about 30 very different types of personalities ranging from red suit man to the tall and punky style of dread-lock girl, this was a surreal scene.

Yet, there was a pure happiness, freedom, and vivaciousness that these people were experiencing.  As they danced with each other void of socio-economic class and personality judgments, even though each person's status was clearly apparent, the sense of unity that was created from the music that conjured similar feelings of euphoria was a spectacular sight. 

Who knows what sorts of daily troubles these various people have to deal with? Maybe blue-red suit has a lawsuit pending against him or maybe the couple in their 40's have been going through some tough times and the festival was a way for them to try and work past their difficulties by infusing some excitement into their lives.  Even in the extreme case of the homeless enjoying the moment for what it was, despite their past troubles and misfortunes, is an incredible gift.  That little slice of enjoyment in their lives was created by taking advantage of and noticing the beautiful moment that were generated on that Sunday afternoon.  That moment coalesced various types of people for a few hours of unity, a sense of togetherness, and innate feelings of true belonging to something more than just themselves.  Even the people with no real sense of direction in their lives were able to recognize something beautiful and take part in a dance of unity with their fellow man.

This is the Frakenjuice in its purest form. 

What do you think about the Frakenjuice, as you now have some sort of understanding? Frakenjuice comments and stories are strongly encouraged.