“Come on lover, talk to me.”
And I’m back to the late sixties/ early seventies stuff.
“Come on lover, talk to me.”
And I’m back to the late sixties/ early seventies stuff.
“So get all those blues, must be a thousand hues and be just differently used, you just know. You sit there mesmerized by the depth of her eyes that you can’t categorize. She got soul.”
Dear Los Angeles,
I will be in your city limits tomorrow. It has been a few months since we’ve last met. But I must tell you, my head is reeling with the questions of a thousand dreams. What you do and what you see. Come on lover, talk to me. Give me some answers. I need answers, and fast. Is this explosion gonna set me reeling? Or just another thing to pull me under? If you could give me anything tomorrow. Just a wink or even just a sigh. Gimme a sign. This is getting old.
I’m just your side bet, freestyle walking. I cry, cry, cry. Then I complain, come back for more and do it again.
Honestly, what is wrong with me?
I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I just finished an internship that allowed me to meet incredible people and see Gavin Newsom without hair gel. I have the most amazing friends in the world; the San Francisco ones and the ones exiled to Honduras.
Then, why, without fail, do I always fixate on the one negative or challenging thing regardless of how well things are going? At three p.m. yesterday, I was walking down Market with a little brown bag, Godiva chocolate in hand and a a feeling of utter contentment. By three a.m. this morning, I was pissed off and dismissing my friends from my room.
There is nothing like hearsay about the guy you like to cap off the evening.
Do I have to come right out and ask you to be mine? If it was a game I could play it. I’m trying to make it but I’m losing time. I’ve got to bring you in, you’re overworking my mind.
Should I believe it? I don’t know. Should I talk to him about it? I don’t know. Should I give up? I don’t think so. Should I calm the fuck down about it? Absolutely.
All I know is that I feel like I’m going nowhere, even though others argue the contrary. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. And patience is not one of my strong suits.
What a weekend. I don’t even know where to begin. I’m so exhausted, I’ve spent the entire day in bed with the exception of going to one class and taking Korey to the Civic Center BART station. I needed a mental and physical rest day like this.
I suppose I’ll start on Thursday, when Korey came into town. I seriously sprinted from my rhet class on one side of campus (which happens to be on the peak of one of the City’s largest hills) to the other to meet her. We had that movie-style-running-and-embracing-best-friends moment. Adorable.
From there, we met up with her friend Karen from Connecticut and headed to Half Moon Bay for part of the International Rust Fest. We had a lovely dinner at a seafood restaurant that reminded me of places on Long Island and then headed to the bar where Neil Young fans were playing covers into the night.
Korey and I were there for about fifteen minutes before some local boys (definitely not there for Neil-related activities) insisted on getting us drinks. The conversation was vapid at best, which explains my previous post, but super funny. One of the guys thought “Smoke on the Water” was by Led Zeppelin, whom I also think they thought was a singular musician and not a band of four members. It is only fitting that my first experience chatting up guys at a bar was with Korey. When the guys left, we hung out with Karen and other Rusties, and had an awesome night. So much fun.
The next day, Korey, cath-the-kid, and I hung around Hayes Valley and ate macarons and perused book stores. Later that night we procured liquor sans ID on Haight and had a belligerently fun night back on campus with all my friends.
The next day, Saturday, was day one of the 24th Annual Bridge School Benefit. It was raining, as it had the day before, but was not so bad. We successfully took the BART to Millbrae and connected to Caltrain to get to Mountain View. No problems. We got to the Mountain View station where it was pouring and could not find a cab to take us to the venue. We waited a while and met a Swiss fellow on “holiday” and two guys from the City who we all split a cab with. One of the guys from SF was a legitimate Die Antwoord fan, so I was set in the humor department. We met two of my friends at the show. It was cold as hell, but all was well.
Grizzly Bear and Modest Mouse were both very good. Jackson Browne made me so happy by playing “For Everyman” and made me teary when he played “These Days” with just an acoustic guitar and fiddle. The first time I have ever gotten emotional at a show. Billy Idol was hilarious and surprisingly really, really fun. The whole crowd seemed to be dancing and yelling the lyrics to those 80’s hits. Elvis Costello and Emmylou Harris played an awesome version of “Tell Me Why”, one of my very favorite Neil songs. I enjoyed the both of them immensely, but was pretty mellow about them since I saw them three weeks ago at Hardly Strictly.
Other than the obvious Buffalo Springfield reunion, I was dying with excitement over Pearl Jam. I have been a Pearl Jam fan since seventh grade and have been actively trying to see them live since eighth grade, but between having tickets and having Eddie bail, being out of town, and being broke, I had never been able to actually pull it off. But Saturday, I saw Pearl Jam. I loved it. Had emotional moment number two during a version of “Black” with a string section. I am thinking of having Eddie, Ryan Adams, and Paul Westerberg all be brother-husbands.
And of course, Buffalo Springfield was amazing. So amazing. “On the Way Home”, “Do I Have To Come Right Out and Say It?”, “Bluebird” (my song), and so much more. Ahhh. And, I’ve seen Neil before, but I have never seen my beloved Stephen Stills in person. I don’t know why (I think it’s because of our shared pattern of being rejected by lovers), but I’ve always had a connection to him and his music. And Richie Furay was so adorable because he seemed so happy to be there. “Buffalo Springfield Again”…a reality.
The night ended with a group version of “Rocking in the Free World” with Ed and Neil on vocals. Wooo.
However, before Pearl Jam’s set, Korey and I acknowledged a big problem: we only had a theoretical way of getting back to the City. The theoretical way did not happen, and it appeared we were stranded in Mountain View.
10:20 pm: We call my friend Dillon to ask her to look up any potential way out of Mountain View. Amtrak, Greyhound, anything. No luck. Last Caltrain was at 10:49. Well, Pearl Jam wasn’t even on yet, so that was not happening.
11:20 pm: Talk to condescending, twenty-something security guard about possible ways getting back. “You guys should go back to the City, and never leave, this way you’ll never get stranded. But, I’ve got a buddy who works here, sells beer, named Freeze. He lives in the City. He can tell you how to get back.” Freeze is never found.
12:30 am: Buffalo Springfield’s set ends. Korey and I resolve to take a cab back to the City instead of getting a hotel room in Mountain View. But, Korey decides to go to ask the security office if they know any ways back to San Francisco. They tell us to get a cab from the venue to El Camino Real and take the 22 bus to Palo Alto, where there is an hourly bus that runs all night to SF.
12:45 am: All cabs are occupied. We decide to walk a few blocks down Shoreline Boulevard hoping to find one. This goes on for an hour. Creepy car pulls to side of the road, we freak out and it leaves. Finally we get a cab.
1:45 am: Get on the bus to Palo Alto.
2:00 am: Get on the bus to San Francisco. The bus driver seems to feel bad for us and lets us ride for free. The cops are called twice to extract problematic riders, however, the riders leave before the cops actually come. We stop at every trivial stop in San Mateo County.
4:05 am: Arrive at 10th and Mission. Korey finds a 24-hour doughnut shop and buys one with sprinkles. We walk to McAllister to get on the 5 bus. The 5 is not scheduled to arrive for another thirty-two minutes. We take a cab.
4:15 am: Home.
We woke up at 9:30 the next morning and ate breakfast. We had minor inconveniences getting back down to Mountain View and it was pouring all day and I ended up being covered in mud, but it was quickly forgotten when Pearl Jam played a Lost Dogs-tastic set and gave me another touching moment during “Just Breath”. T-Bone Burnett’s rock ‘n roll clusterfuck was sweet. Elton John and Leon Russell were awesome, Neko Case sounded great, and listening to the crowd (myself, unfortunately, included) yell out “Dude!!!!” and “White Russians!!” to Jeff Bridges was a treat. And I’m very in love with Elvis Costello, I think. We left during Buffalo Springfield’s set to insure we’d make the 9:19 Caltrain to the City. Which we did, thank God. And had an uneventful ride home, with the exception of my discussion with Korey regarding how funny Ryan Adams is, and how we wish it could still be Spacewolf’s birthday.
When we got home, I got pissed off because of some stuff regarding Boy that seriously seems like a joke, and went to bed. I was still in a semi-shitty mood today, but am now over it for the time being. I think part of the reason for my sour mood was exhaustion. But, like everything, “So it goes”, and I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.
However, despite everything, it was a super fun weekend that I will never forget. It is another adventure to add to the Korey and Emily list. Even as pissed as I was on that bus somewhere near Burlingame, the absurdity and humor of the situation was not lost on me. And besides, I got to see a band I love reunite after forty-two years and end a five year long quest to see another band I love. Seriously, this year’s Bridge line-up did not disappoint. But, next year, I’m staying at a hotel.
I think I’m going to die. Buffalo Springfield reunion at Bridge School. I am so excited I cannot even move.