When I briefly lived in Brooklyn in my very early 20s, there was a bar called Rosemary’s (I think, it’s been a while), where the owner, presumably Rosemary but who really knows, would heavily decorate the place for every holiday. Those decorations remained up until the next holiday, so there would be an unbroken chain of baubles, colored lights, dangly paper things, streamers, etc. This, along with the ability to buy a 32-ounce Styrofoam cup full of beer for $5, would lure me and my friends into the place, especially in the winter, where the dull, dirty show and constant wet cold of the frozen cityscape created a dampening misery felt all the way into the soul. I enjoyed the interregnum from Christmas to St. Patrick’s Day, particularly the Valentine’s Day period, where there was roughly a month of bright red hearts and paper cupids to accompany what was, on reflection, a fairly dreary expression of the overall poverty and loneliness that haunted my life. There’s plenty of wonder in the big city for the young and destitute, but not a lot of love, at least not of the romantic kind. Which was actually a good early lesson about life in general, and the nature of this intangible feeling that we fetishize, build entire industries and entertainment empires about, and often completely wreck our lives over. To be able to separate romantic love from the various other forms of eros is an idea older than the Socratic Dialogues, and one which continues to trouble humans today. Certainly, it should be celebrated if experienced but you can’t really do much more with romance than that, especially if you are looking for a force to compel you through life. This isn’t to say love doesn’t exist, more that its romantic expression can shift from exciting to stifling very quickly. Oftentimes the larger concept of love in general is difficult enough to qualify, with many people over many centuries and cultures coming up with a wide variety of definitions. Perhaps it’s like what they say about art and pornography: Nearly impossible to define but you know it when you see it. Former local Raymond Carver took a fairly heavy shot at it with his 1981 story “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,” and did a pretty decent job, despite a violent narrative from an author who I don’t think would have been very fun to be in a relationship with.
I know enough to say with confidence that I don’t know much, but I do believe that I can recognize love in more than a few of its forms, and I hope that all of you, dear readers, have the opportunity to celebrate your version this Friday and beyond. Here’s looking at you, kid.
Thursday
Rootsy local act The Elderberry Rust String Band is a good time for those looking for a hoot and a holler with plenty of solid picking. Swing by the Basement at 8 p.m. for a cover-free show of Americana tunes with that oh-so-fine bluegrass swagger.
Friday, Valentine’s Day
Ponies of Harmony, aka singer and tromboner James Zeller and guitarist and singer Katie Belknap, have put together a show at Synapsis tonight called All About Love, featuring poetic and musical musings on the nature of the evening’s theme. There is a vegan meal provided with soup, salad and bread from Brio, which must be reserved online at the Sanctuary’s website, the lovely venue for which this event is also a fundraiser to get it back into working shape after severe storm damage a few months ago. Tickets are $15-$30, depending on if you wish to partake in the meal, but there will also be refreshments for sale for those with a lighter appetite. Roll through at 7 p.m.
Saturday
It’s the second night of the Mr. Humboldt pageant over at the Arcata Theatre Lounge tonight at 7:30 p.m. Last night’s All-Stars Pageant featured participants from years past, while tonight’s offering is focused exclusively on fresh faces, all vying for the crown, gilded underwear, or whatever the big prize is for coming up on top. (Journal arts and features editor Jennifer Fumiko Cahill is among the judges.) Tickets for this evening’s grand finale will run you $33.83 and, of course, a chance to meet the Spartan-bodied hero of the year and celebrate their brief moment of unlimited glory.
Sunday
San Diego is in the house at Humbrews tonight but, rather than representing that weather-perfect town, will be celebrating the music of our colder, Northern neighbors. Chest Fever is an officially sanctioned tribute act celebrating The Band, one of the finest groups to emerge from the rock to folk back to rock double decade from the 1950s to the 1970s. If you live around these parts there is a near certain chance you have ingested the group’s tunes in a form of osmosis, as they are ground zero for Americana music reaching an international audience. I’m certainly a fan. Doors are at 8 p.m., and San Diego band Mrs. Henry opens. ($20).
Monday
Up in the Canadian side of the Rocky Mountains you will find the home-turf stamping grounds of The Wardens, a ground of Canuck songsters named after their chosen profession of national park wardens. Expect harmony-laden tales of the wilds of the backcountry and the experiences of the people who oversee its vast wilderness. I think that sounds neat. The Arcata Playhouse is the venue and 7 p.m. is a nice early start for those of you who have work in the morning. The $20 fee is a fair price, too.
Tuesday
We have a new venue in town, as the Jam in Arcata is no more, having morphed into something called the Wild Hare Tavern. Out with the old, in with the leporids. Humor is often the best way to break the ice in a new social situation, so what better way to get acquainted with our new hangout spot than an evening of stand-up comedy? Tonight’s show is a joint venture with Savage Henry Comedy Club and features comics Sam Abraham, Jessica Grant, Nic Castognola, Trevor Lockwood and Jamon Jamison. Only $5 at the door and the fun starts at 8 p.m.
Wednesday
There’s nothing going on tonight that I haven’t reported on in one form or another before, so I’ll just spin the wheel and see where the cursor stops. Duck, duck, duck, goose … and it looks like the Logger Bar is the place tonight, where you can enjoy Jazz Bros at 4 p.m., and karaoke four hours later. Viva.
Collin Yeo (he/him) does not love a great many things about the world at large but he won’t be going into that this week.
This article appears in Step Aside Prop. 47, Proposition 36 Has Arrived.