First Show @ the Fillmore

Peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys, peaks and valleys. I keep telling myself that this is what I signed up for. I knew that I would no longer go into bars and have drinks shoved into my hands and shots poured down my throat. I knew that I would no longer get roped effortlessly into conversations and circles, effectively creating a social life that was about as difficult to maintain as a pet rock. Eight years as a bartender in a relatively small town will do that.

I would be lying if I said that at the Karl Denson's Tiny Universe show at the Fillmore last night, it was a little odd to not see some recognizable faces. It was odd not to pre-game with my friends, imbibing alcohol for at least two hours leading up to the show, then competing afterward for the title of Last Man Standing. It was odd not to run commentary and first set re-caps during the set break. And it was odd not to have a crew to high-five when KDTU broke into the Jimi Hendrix song Spanish Castle Magic for encore. Brock felt the same way, commenting that usually, going to a show seemed like such an event, but that this time it seemed more like an everyday occurrence. Not to take away from the show, of course. Donning an off-white cowboy hat, Karl proved once again that his band is the Soul of the jam scene. And, Mike Doughty playing solo for opener was a nice addition, especially since I haven't seen him since he played the Cat's Cradle with Soul Coughing about seven years ago.

So, the learning process continues. I feel like I'm finally getting a pretty good feel for navigating the city. But there is just a kernel of two of...hmmm...not homesickness, but really just longing for familiarity. It is most certainly a feeling felt by anyone shedding their comfort zone in such drastic context. But, as I have continued to say, this is what I signed up for. Now, if I could only go ahead and land a job...

First weekend, hanging out in Golden Gate Park at the Power to the Peaceful festival with String Cheese Incident and Spearhead. 

That's not a tail. Its two extra legs. 

It definitely won't take us a week to get out there... 

The Penske Thrown

Do you want to know the most uncomfortable seat in the entire world? It is that of a 20' Penske truck, after having been driven for four days at an average of ten hours a day. When I was in college, me and a friend made it in a GMC Jimmy from North Carolina to California in two days. This took a little longer.

Nashville, then Kansas City, then Denver, then Salt Lake City, then Sacramento, and finally to San Francisco. I caught a horrible cold the first day of travelling, and contended with what felt like someone twisting a large screw in my throat for the first four days of the trip. So, where I had expected the Great American Jack Kerouac Experience, I got more of Hunter S. Thompson thing going with my head swimming in cold medicine for most of the trip. Seeing the country in such a way reminds you that America is the land of diversity, both in the physical and cultural landscape. That diversity was more than showcased at the Denver Taste of Colorado festival, where my friends Susanne, Kristen, and Alex sat out drinking beers and running commentary on the passing crowd. Mullets, men with khaki Daisy-Dukes, bellies & halter tops, and lots of oddly dressed children whose parents are ruining their chances of ever being cool. A fun way to spend a few hours downing beers in the sun, believe me. Brock, Rachel, and our road companion Jay decided to go camping, and I opted for a cozy couch and a steak at Kristen's house. We did go see Garden State, which was hilarious, but scared me for when my ten year high school reunion finally rolls around.

One thing that I noticed on the trek out here is that rednecks don't just live in the South. The entire country is blessed with them. But there's no trip like hearing a redneck talk with a north/midwest accent. Its like hearing a cat bark.

And, if you take I-70 across Kansas, there is a Texas Chainsaw Massacre-esque petting zoo with rattlesnakes, goats, and six-legged cow. Its right before you hit Colorado. I wouldn't lie to you. I've got pictures.

Our last night was near the UC-Davis campus. This was after the simultaneous three heart attacks that I suffered while maneuvering the Penske down the Rocky Mountains on I-80 from Tahoe. I think Rachel had a stash of quarters she was feeding the Penske so that the seat would vibrate the whole time. Bare seat coils feel great on the backside, by the way. The final morning of the arrival, we found a funky coffee shop in Davis. Dreads, art on the wall, grungy musician types... made me feel right at home. Of course, by the end of the day, the idea of home would take on a drastic makeover.