This week so far

Wilco at the Paramount was terrific. While I would have preferred to see them in a place where I could drink freely and stamp out cigarette butts on the floor, the sound at the Paramount was outstanding. Nels Cline takes that band in such a different direction, and while I'll always be an alt-country fan at heart, I was pleasantly surprised by what I got on Sunday. Social Distortion at the Warfield, however, left a bit to be desired. The band was great, but being up in the nosebleed seats around people that were actually sitting down for Social D was a drag. I look forward to seeing them when they swing back around here next year, because the rumor is that they will be doing a multiple night run at the Fillmore. Before Rachel and I went into the show, I saw someone standing outside the show who I thought I recognized. Sure enough, it was an old acquaintance from Chapel Hill. Its so nice, even as far out as San Francisco, to run into old faces. He had actually worked at the Cat's Cradle when I first got hired, and I hadn't seen him in years.

So, I'm interviewing for a job on Tuesday, and it makes me unbelievably happy that I might finally start a normal life again. After shunning the 8-5 thing to go back to grad school and continue my extended adolescence as a bartender nearly three years ago, I am so ready to get back into the normal schedule. Unending successions of late nights and afternoon television shows (except for the one that Brock and I were on, of course...) need to be traded in for a steady paycheck and some kind of a career. Its weird to think that. Its weird to come to the conclusion that you might not turn out being Jack Kerouac, or a member of Sonic Youth. That you might not ever actually be on A&E's Biography. That Charlie Rose might never have you on his talk show. That you might end up more like your parents than your idols. Fuck, I don't even want to think about that.

Anyway, Rachel's parents will be in town this weekend, and the Tarheels are playing (and by playing, I mean whipping the tar out of) Santa Clara this Friday. Saturday will be the Ropeadope New Music Seminar at the Independent, and I'm hoping to swing by Borders on Post Street and get a copy of the new Tom Wolfe novel, autographed by none other than the man in white himself. Man, I love this city.