If you ever find yourself wondering what being haunted or possessed feels like, think about a nightmare. Then wake up and try to move on. Think about a beautiful dream. Then wake up and once again try to get on with your life. If you have ever suffered from privation — a serious deficit of any of the nourishment required for the most basic expression of life — and you have somehow gotten out of that situation, then you have been haunted. If you then had things turn around so much that you are so glutted and fat from good fortune that you can no longer savor the delightful tastes of comfort, but only suffer from a joyless hunger for more excess, you have experienced possession. Wraiths and demons pour out of the gas leak at the junction between material acquisition and spiritual hunger. It’s foul and extremely volatile there, as the terrain between the fears and desires of our sleeping minds cast shadows from shapes whose science we do not understand. If you ever find yourself wandering through the sulfuric clouds of that irrational landscape, you can ground yourself in knowing how old this stuff is. Exorcism is older than the Bible, and ghosts have evaporated like morning dew in the sunlight from suns that no longer exist.
It’s the time of year which has been designated — by the western world anyway — as the proper time to write about these things. But these things are everywhere all the time, and you can find macabre traces of deep human expression in some of the most unlikely places. Like an interview with Kurt Vonnegut from the July 1973 issue of Playboy, right after he published Breakfast of Champions. It’s a fun read, and there’s something about his tone that is impossible to replicate. It’s not vacant millennial irony or postmodern absurdism for its own sake. Vonnegut’s bell rings across an eternal present. A circle of time wrapped around a life balancing the joy and gluttony of the economic success of post-World War II America with the impossible scope of horror created by that same war. The munitions that kill millions are converted into the fertilizer that feeds the new Wonder Bread generation as booms become blooms and boomers and life expands like a mushroom cloud in this closed loop.
Time was a cauldron to Vonnegut, one in which everything was cooked and consumed at once so every pleasure also had the flavor of suffering from the tortures of the eternal slaughterhouse. But rather than enjoying the blood-feast by poking his lucky ass out of the fire to drink from the top like many other writers of good fortune, he wanted something different. He wrote about brutality and suffering without being possessed by the indifferent hunger causing it. He used humor in the most humane and human way: by throwing what he called “horseshit” into the mix, ideas so silly but undeniably true they had a chance of ruining the palettes of at least a few drooling ghoulies. A general theme in his work could be expressed as: “You are eating horseshit. We are all eating horseshit. Look at it, it’s shit! Perhaps we should stop eating all this shit, or at least slow down.” If you find yourself in a demon-haunted place surrounded by hungry ghosts, imagine you’re Kilgore Trout and tell those aristocratic vampires to eat shit. And go have some fun.
Thursday
Fine Folk is an ensemble of young musicians from Long Beach who play a mix of indie bluegrass, country and folk songs (duh). Led by main singer and guitarist Eva Loona Smith, this mostly acoustic multi-instrumental seven-piece is doing what any good players with an interest in tradition do when forced to live in the fresh wet ribbon of the 21st century: They hold tight to the old without squeezing out the new. Swing by Humbrews tonight after 8 p.m. to hear what that sounds like in practice. Local country-ish singer/songwriter Ruby Ruth George opens things up ($20, $15 advance).
Friday
James Zeller and the J-Street Regulars are playing another jazz tribute gig — not on J Street, as the Sanctuary isn’t an option currently — but rather at the Arcata Playhouse. Tonight’s gig happens on the eve of the 110th anniversary of the birth of the tributee, a feast for the high priest of bop, Thelonius Monk. Violinist Jenny Scheinman — herself a high priestess of music here and abroad — joins Zeller and crew for a musical encomium that will not be happening ’Round Midnight, but a more reasonable 7:30 p.m. for us rural folk. Tickets are $15-$30, sliding scale.
Saturday
Speaking of musical tributes, local genius and keeping departed sounds alive, Barking Dogma is playing the music of the late Kevyn Dymond with a new line-up featuring local drummer and sound -slinger Michael “Tofu” Schwartz. Red Hot Shame is the other half of the lineup at the new-ish Siren’s Song Tavern tonight at 8 p.m., where for a sliding scale $5-$10 you can dig in.
Sunday
Live Dead & Brothers is a jam band tribute act dedicated to playing all things Grateful Dead and Allman Brothers. Tonight’s set at Humbrews will be recreating the Merry Prankster era of the former group. At 60 years and counting, these tunes are ready to sail across the cultural alphabet from LSD to AARP, and all points in between. Music starts after 8:30 p.m., and tickets are $40 in advance, $45 at the door.
Monday
Most of the folks under 50 who still demand we all celebrate Columbus Day are those grody little culture warriors — mostly Gen Z reactionaries but a few millennials and X’ers, too — who look like Muppet Baby imitations of Tucker Carlson, from the lamb-soft skin and tousled helmet-hair to the wardrobe of a failed ’80s Yalie trying to win some respect from the Heritage Foundation by auditioning for lead finger puppet in the summer stock entertainment on William F. Buckley Jr.’s favorite schooner. Not my culture, not my costume, not my problem.
Tuesday
Once again, tonight is a perfect night to check out the avant-jazz practice space of the fine musicians in Strange Meeting. The session starts at the Basement after 7 p.m., with a mere $5 suggested donation at the door.
Wednesday
There are not a lot of indie rock bands from Australia rolling through the county this year, but lightning flashes every so often and tonight is such a night. Last Dinosaurs are a trio from Queensland who have been around in one form or another for two decades and are currently touring on a revisited, rerecorded and reimagined version of their 2015 breakthrough record Wellness. The renamed Wellnxss Tour hits the Arcata Theatre Lounge tonight after 7 p.m. Tickets are available online with packaged deals and other offerings running in the range of $20-$30, but no exact amount for the cost on the night-of as of press time.
Collin Yeo (he/him) ain’t afraid of no ghosts.
This article appears in Gold in the Cracks.