Thursday, January 11, 2007

A Slight Lack Of Confidence

This picture was on the cover of the SF Chronicle today. Just this little face staring back at me from inside one hundred newspaper boxes. Shudder...

All My Friends Are Dead

Did Someone Just Shout 'Corn' on Live 105?

A friend of mine recently compared his move from the East Coast to San Francisco to sinking into a warm bath. I would agree wholeheartedly if it weren't absolutely freezing here this week. Otherwise it's been pretty lovely.

Baker beach was overrun with massive waves the other day. There was almost no beach at all.

Baker beach is also what is known as a 'clothing optional' beach. During the summer months the beach is a hot spot for dicks and balls and things of that nature. During the winter it seems to be just the odd exhibitionist airing his bits (and it's always his and rarely hers) to anyone out for a stroll on a sunny afternoon. As I was walking towards the bridge this guy jogs past me in track suit bottoms and sneakers with a camera and tripod on his shoulder. He proceeds to set up the tripod for a nice shot of the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay. He frames it up, sets the timer and promptly drops his pants, runs into the shot and leans on one knee, balls akimbo. It all happened so quickly that I barely got a picture at all. Plus I still haven't repaired my camera and, in fact, have further complicated things by dropping it in the sand the other day (now I can no longer turn on a flash, zoom in or out, look at a picture and when I push the shutter button it makes a nice analog crunching sound). That aside, I got, if nothing else, a good enough idea of the scene. The whole way home I kept thinking that he was sending the picture home to his parents to show them what a marvelous time he was having in San Francisco.


My friend Albert and his band were in town this week. I have known most of them for five years or so and I'll be damned if they're not a really good band too. I spread around the good tour karma and hosted some folks at my house and spent another day driving around the city taking the boys to Amoeba to buy more records than they could carry, and also a copy of Rock IV (?) for the bus. A few of the boys lost their suitcases after the bays of the bus were broken in to in Vancouver. The tour manager lost 2 suitcases full of nice suits, leather boots and Burberry jackets. He had to go to Old Navy to buy temporary clothing prompting him to claim that he was dressed as a pizza delivery guy.
They are (unfortunately maybe) on tour with Incubus which means that they play to a large contingent of backwards baseball hat-wearing date rapists each night. As an aside, I overheard this conversation in a comic book shop the other night. The night, in fact, that I was going to see my friends open for Incubus. I'll prefact this by saying that the guy behind the counter is 6'5" with long, jet black hair and a Neurosis t-shirt.

Customer: 'hey dude, your favorite band is in town tonight, what are you doing here?'

Guy Behind Counter: 'what are you talking about?'

Customer: 'your favorite band, they're at The Warfield'

Guy Behind Counter: "i don't know what you are saying to me here.'

Customer: 'Incubus man.'

Guy Behind Counter: 'Fuck You.' (and not like a 'no way' fuck you, more like a fuck you fuck you)

When the customer explained that the band had sold out two night at The Warfield the guy behind the counter screamed 'what' so loud that two people in the store jumped. He then proceeded to wonder aloud who the hell would subject themselves to such torture.

I did.

Anyway, Albert was great. We all went out for some drinks (some more than others) in Lower Haight. Matt was totally legless and disappeared on the way to Molotov's only to return with a hat that he had bought from a bum for some reason. Bear with me. This is totally necessary in describing Matt's character.

So the band turned up at this radio station the other day to play a few acoustic songs live on the radio. I had just dropped Matt off and went back to my apartment. I was sitting in my living room, doing the crossword puzzle and decided to listen in. After some pretty shameful banter with an afternoon dj the band ripped into a song. 'Ripped' maybe not being the operative word as Matt was playing an egg shaker and everything was acoustic. So, I convince myself that it's a good idea to send Matt a text message 3/4's of the way through the song. I decided to offer him $5 if he shouted 'corn' on the radio. Why not? I mean, who really brings their cell phone to a live radio session anyways, and furthermore, who really listens to the often absurd things that I say? So, I owe Matt $5. Little do I know that his cell phone would ring while they are playing causing a tremendous fit of laughter from damn near everyone, and then silence...three, two, one CORN! I sat in my living room, totally amazed, like someone who has just picked up a table with their mind. It was truly a gold star moment all around.

That's all I've got. I'm off to Vegas this weekend. If anyone needs me I'll be face down in a puddle of my own tears on a $10 blackjack table. I've also signed on to do the Arcade Fire tour this year, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the light show is going to blow a few minds.