Back in 2004 me and S. Tanasse left work at 3pm to catch Calexico play in San Luis Obispo.
Looking back, I remember the slight look of disappointment in his eyes when I invited myself along. I could tell I would be an imposition, taking away from his one on one time with his german tapes. But I sensed that we could be long time pals and that a little bonding would go a long way. I was right! We rolled down to San Luis Obispo, caught the show, and woke up the following morning at like 500am to come back in time for a remarkably useless 9am meeting.
The show was incredible -- a small venue to see one of my favorite bands around. Neko Case opened and while she was pretty awesome and most indie rocker guys were creaming their jea
ns over her, i decided to retreat. i headed upstairs to the bar to write out some central coast musings. As is my style, I sipped a beer and attacked a cocktail napkin with some thoughts. I wrote one poem and one rant ... i came across this napkin recently and decided to post the contents here...
Happy New Year to everyone!
Soledad
It's nights like these,
Full bars in cool Central Coast towns.
It's nights like these,
Warmed by cut rate gin and a pitcher of Stout.
It's nights like these,
Alone at the bar, I look for you.
And it's on nights like these,
Distance and Time pour through me,
A freezing pint of ice water,
A cold draft of Soledad.
San Luis Obispo, July 13, 2004
---
Untitled.
SLO: Hipsters and low cut jean wearing honeys.
Tattooed small town girls who grew up barefoot on milk
cartons. Beach cruiser bicycles with built in foliage.
Small town incest is seeping through the Gucci pores
of this town. You can smell LA nearby and it smells
like rotten sunshine beaming through last week's
celebrity sightings. Junipero Serra could not have
seen this coming. He could not have imagined tattooed
tits pouring out of caramel halter tops. Were his
toils for naught? Hundreds of years of genocide, for
this? The Central Coast should be ashamed.
San Luis Obispo, July 13, 2004
