Santa Cruz & Sound Tribe

Awesome weekend! I was so ready to get out of town by the time Friday rolled around. Work has been getting progressively better, but I'm still spending too much time in the office. The prospect of a weekend in Santa Cruz held mucho appeal. Add Sound Tribe Sector 9 to the mix, and it wasn't even an option. Jer, Brock, and I finally got out of town around seven, and finally made it to the Santa Cruz Beach Inn (dubbed the Santa Cruz Compound) by about nine-thirty. Our friends Patrick, Olivia, and Arthur arrived shortly after, and after quickly downing some pre-game cocktails, we walked over to the Catalyst for the show. Line was ten miles long. Everybody and their daddy had will call tickets. We didn't even get in the show until three songs into the set, and that was after an hour wait. Of course, they started playing my new favorite song right as we were getting our arms stamped. Found some tight real estate mid-way up, and just danced the entire night. Jamband shows are known for being mostly guys, so its nice to go to a show where the ratio is a little more even. I was exhausted walking out. Back at the Compound, after getting questioned by the Hotel Gestapo, we all lounged in the room, laughing about the night while Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was on TV. How appropriate.

Saturday in Santa Cruz was perfect. Woke up to watch the Tar Heels just punish Virginia for two solid halfs. When they went into halftime with a 30+ lead, I checked out and got another hour of sleep. After brunch, we hit up the Cyclone (I think that was the name...) for a little early morning roller coaster ride at the Boardwalk. Way more fun than I anticipated. This was followed by many games of pinball in the arcade. The lineup of pinball games was flanked by this old school Street Fighter. This really cute girl, striking features, appeared to be Hispanic or South American, was pulling time at Street Fighter. I did a loop just to get another look at her, and Jer strategically stationed himself at the Simpsons pinball game, which happened to be right next to Street Fighter. Intrigue is an indescribable, difficult-to-disect emotion. There was definitely something about her, though. Olivia had been a video game tester in her previous employment, so we put her up to challenging the gal. She held her own, but ultimately got beat two games in a row. There was a line of Asian boys, probably young teenagers, just waiting to get a crack at her after Olivia stepped down. We decided to have a four player Daytona race, and I have to say, that was a lot of fun. Of course, I came in last place (damn Pit Stop!), but that wasn't after a valiant effort and a head on collision with a wall at 203 mph. I was proud. On the way out of the arcade, I saw the girl still hanging out at Street Fighter. I had to go say something, so I walked over to her and asked, "So did you whip all those guys that were in line?" She kind of laughed and said, "Yeah." I asked her if she'd lost a game today, to which she replied, "Not yet." I told her she was amazing, and walked outside to meet up with Brock and Jer.

We made it back to the hotel for a mid-afternoon snooze (I actually stayed up drinking vodka & cranberries). Brock said that I downed six of them before we even got going, but I think it might have only been five. Olivia showed us how she could move each of her toes individually (try it---you can't do it). She wants to set me up with one of her friends, but I am a little hesitant. We'll see. Patrick and Arthur snoozed until about seven-thirty. Once everybody got up and downed another drink or two, we got our act together and cruised down to the Catalyst to get our tickets. Fortunately, they opened the box office a little early so we could get our will call tickets. Once again, the line was ridiculous. On the way down there, I stopped off at the corner store to get some gum and a little container of Jeiger for the crowd, which we all took a slash from later. While Brock meandered around the block, Jer and I went to pick up our tickets. While we hung out near the telephone pole near the entrance, I'll be damned if Street Fighter girl didn't walk by! I waved at her, and it caught her off guard. She kind of waved and just kept walking. Jer could see her (I couldn't from the crowd of people), and said she turned back to look at us like three times. His phone rang, and he said, "DK, she's coming back toward us. I'll take care of this call. You take care of that one." I started laughing, but sure enough, she was standing right in front of me. After saying hello, we started talking the normal small talk. I had to ask her about the whole Street Fighter thing. I asked her if she ever made any money on that. She said no, but that people offered to play her for money all the time. She said she would be at the Blue Lagoon later, if we wanted to come up there, before taking off.
We met up w/ everyone and had a few more pre-game drinks at Blue Lagoon while shooting some pool. Tonight's STS9 show was great. It was a little more crowded than the night before, but it was a lot of fun. Everybody stayed together a little better. It went by way to fast. I almost couldn't believe it was over, and definitely wasn't ready to leave! Jer and I tried to get into the Blue Lagoon after the show, but it was so late, they weren't letting anyone in. Patrick and Brock had made it in there just before the doorguy started turning people away. I'm sure they looked like complete freaks in that scene, but he said it was a blast. Of course, Street Fighter girl was there (her real name was Angie), with some guy. We ended the evening walking back to the SC-Compound. Jer made the comment that Santa Cruz had some crazy people, and at that moment, some guy walked by and said, "Yeah man, its like an outdoor insane asylum!" How fitting.

I made it to sleep before everyone else, I think, but was also up first as well. Patrick, Arthur, and Olivia took off for the city b/c they had an early flight. Sunday was pretty lazy, as we sauntered out of the Compound and took Hwy 1 (absolutely gorgeous drive) back to the city. I have to agree with Brock that it was probably one of the most enjoyable weekends I've had since moving here. I look forward to more of them.

Popular Misconceptions

I'd be lying if I said that I honestly had a handle on all this. I figured the job would give me clarity, balance, form. None of that, man. It empties nine hours of my life down a drain, and reminds me about it three times a day when I break to go to the bathroom or venture over to Peet's Coffee on Montgomery Street and catch myself in the window reflection. You think life goes by fast, but it goes by a hell of a lot faster when you're confined to an office, a computer, a window they sold you as part of the perk package, and a view that is really just a joke on you. But I'm not here to whine. I'm here to make it better.

So, San Francisco is still the best place in America. But, I'd be lying if I said it doesn't feel a little weird now. Being a broke bohemian with time to run in the park (but no time to call your East Coast friends because you're too embarrassed that you're still unemployed) actually brought more smiles than sadness. I'm not saying I want to go back to that. I don't. But, weeks shouldn't feel like days, and I shouldn't feel guilty about leaving the office before 6pm...right?

Sometimes, I feel like when you are one of those people that other people look to for answers, life can be real lonely. I have to get up in seven hours and do it all over again, but some mornings, I feel like this is really a test. Not of endurance, but of creativity...to see if I can break the mold that four gazillion others have fallen right into. The working stiff. The man I love to hate.

Finished Shopgirl by Steve Martin. Made me feel better about my own writing. Don't get me wrong. Its not bad. There are certainly some moments in there. But you wonder if you get famous, will people be afraid to tell you that you're bad at something? Or, is it the other way around. You become afraid to be too radical at anything other than your selected profession. Oh, who cares anyway, you know? I am, however, pretty excited about my next book, which will either be We Owe You Nothing, a collection of punk rock interviews, or the collected short stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Still trying to needle my way into contemporary fiction, but I'm at such a loss there.

Lots of great things to look forward to in the next months! NoisePop, Sound Tribe Sector 9 in Santa Cruz, Jay Farrar, and hopefully some Branford Marsalis at Nob Hill Masonic Auditorium, if I can get a ticket. (If you've got an extra, I can be bought...)