Write it a hundred times...

Wednesday afternoon, San Francisco. I am sitting on the couch in my slippers watching Earth Girls are Easy. Safe bet that I'm not on tour. This last week has been one of the most hectic that I've had in a while. Not too sure where I left off...After Toronto we flew to SF through Phoenix. Our flight was delayed from Toronto because of some sort of malfunction that caused the plane to heat up like a baked potato in the afternoon sun. This happened to be a blessing in disguise, of sorts, as a member of our party, Bob 'Anger Management' Lewis was being detained at customs for shouting 'Fuck' into the face of the fourth person to search his bag that morning. Take note.














Because of this debacle we landed in Phoenix with about 10 mins to make our connecting flight to SF. It took about 7 minutes to open the doors, and with that we were stuck in Phoenix. We managed to get on another airline's flight out to SF after only a few hour's wait. We made it in to SF before sunset, but our luggage was scattered from here to Sri Lanka. It took over two hours to track it all down and get going to our hotel in Mountainview. This is the calm before the storm.














Sf was one of the better radio-sponsored festival things. The crowd was great, and we got to drag Lexi's mom out to see Silversun Pickups and Queens of the Stone Age. The fly in the ointment was the 7AM flight the next morning to San Diego. This is the view out of my hotel room in Mountain View. Again, the calm before the storm.


















The San Diego show was a lesson in how to poorly run a radio-sponsored whirlygig. We turned up at a football stadium at ten in the morning having slept a handfull of hours, and roasted in the Southern California sun. The dressing rooms were located in the only indoors area nearby which happened to be a functioning preschool. It was pretty hilarious at first, but the laughter died down as soon as we realized that no one could fit in the chairs.














Also, I thought the miniature, communal toilets were a bit odd.















I am Frank Zappa-esque in my misery.


















We coped as you would expect. We acted like children until we got tired, then found the big pile of mats and had nap time.










































The show was a bit of a squealer. Everybody was worn out. Bummer. Plus we almost lost one excellent Italian Greyhound in the process when someone left the dressing room door open.


















The next morning I flew home for just shy of 2 weeks off.


















I had some fantastic French food for dinner my first night back, and yesterday I took a ride to Urban Ore in Oakland. It's a sort of recycling spot that salvages seemingly usable bits of trash and sells them for cheap. It's a massive warehouse full of discarded plastic consumerism. It makes you realize how much shit you acquire, and how much you will someday leave behind.














I was talking to my mom yesterday, and she was telling me about a friend of hers who is leaving the country for the first time next week on a short trip to Ireland. She seemed as excited as I was underwhelmed. I hope that I never take my job for granted, but I had to laugh just a little to myself at the thought of an Irish vacation. I'll be there in 2 weeks watching 80,000 people slide around in their own filth and try to piss through a chain link fence. It's a magical world when you see it through my eyes.