__2004-08-15 @ 8:15 p.m._______
Yesterday, I went to see a band called My Favorite at a record store on 4th Street in Berkeley. I would say that they played an in-store, but I would be full of shiite. They played outside of the store and sounded satisfactory...you know, outside and all. While they were playing, they drew an interesting crowd- elderly walking by stopping and holding their hands over their ears, hippie couples walking their dogs, middle-to-upper class customers from the record store of whom were shopping for the latest new age jazz recommendation (they did have a nice sized section on display) and other folk like myself. Apparently, the band's first released song was on a compilation put out by the record store owner- little coininky dink. Anyways, weather was great for such an event and as I stood there watching this band from Long Island stick it out in a compromising performance (as outside shows always are), I realized that if it wasn't for the Smiths, the whole culture of which this band rises and thrives inside of would never really exist in the way it does now. I went to the club show later on that night. I had never been to the club and really it was the first show I'd been to in the Bay area. I went by myself and drank PBR alone at the bar- no one except the bartender talked to me (thank god- not that I didn't like the people there...definitely my type of club), and looked around the dimly lit, smokeless bar, trying to blend into the atmosphere. I was perfectly content with the mood- a dark, unfamiliar club on a street with few lamps and less familiar people infiltrated with warm music, cheap beer, and calming solitude. And then, I danced. I danced next to the curtain next to the stage next to the singing bookworm who just happens to be musically inclined...who just happens to write great sad songs about homeless club kids and of being alone in dorm room on a Friday night after the long breakup. I danced alone...I guess it was only appropriate.
Jill and I drove along route one today and stopped a couple of beaches, visiting the pacific ocean briefly. I really can't believe that I'm living here. I think we'll do new things for the entire two or three years that we're out here. Just so much to do, its nuts. We did some cheesy things at the beach like walking in the wet sand, letting the ocean splash on our feet and legs, taking a picture of our feet in the sand with the water, taking pictures of ourselves with the ocean and the beach. I thought it was romantic but now that I'm writing about it, yeah, it's not capturing the moment as well and it definitely doesn't seem as cool.
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