Gertrudestein-ing It

I wasn’t planning for such an interesting Sunday and last night completed the yet-another-strange outting for my record books. It was nice to have the day off, y’know, like many other Americans during this weekend. I read for about three hours, created one of the best soup/grilled cheese combos I’ve ever made, and had an easy-going Domingo for the most part. But at night, it was time for the craziness. Jen had asked me a few days before if I wanted to join her at her brother’s concert with his band. I said “sure”, not expecting much, but would have been let down had I been given too much. So last night we pre-gamed at my apartment, drinking the most vaginal looking bottle of vodka ever (oh “Veev”!) before hitting the 8 East into San Diego’s ugly step-sister: East County. Now, this wouldn’t have been bad on a regular basis; unfortunately, last night it was incredibly foggy. Like, there wasn’t this much fog in the movie “The Fog” type of fog. It engulfed us in that yellow-tint glow from the street lights and it was like living in a smoke stack. Crazy, but cool, and would have been cooler had Jen and I not needed to pee like racehorses after chucking a gallon of water between us to counter-act the alcohol in our system so we could drive. Luckily, we found the place after only three bad turns and came upon the night’s domain: The Second Wind.

The Second Wind is a bar in one of the Meth Capitols of America (again, East County…however, I still think Ogden, UT holds the record for Crystal Meth users in the country) and sure enough, there were some tweekers outside. Now, to set the scene: we walk in through the exit to the bathrooms, into the extra classy strip-mall-outlet-turned-bar with a low stucco ceiling wearing a classy, blue tinsel hanging off of it, and an amoeba shaped bar leading to the panel wood dance floor in front of the half-foot high stage. It’s dark, except for the three televisions and the backlight glow against the liquor bottles making them up like Philip 20 Watts. Yep, this was definitely was a great joint. I actually really liked the band. Maybe it was because Jen’s brother, Matt, hugged me before dawning a Joker mask and taking the stage with his bass guitar. Maybe it was the crazy film playing against the band, going by the moniker of Gertrudestein (one word), and the only source of light on stage. Maybe it was because I never listen to Goth Metal, where you can’t hear a thing but noise and that’s a good thing. Maybe it just reminded me that fifteen wasn’t so long ago…and, while I’d not like to revert back to that age, realized how great it was.

This morning I awoke and felt young. I’m not kidding—the night had been a fountain of youth. Ponce de Leon must be spinning in his grave! I went to work, feeling great—after all, it was just another day at the office for me; for everyone else, it was “back from vacation”—and set out to greet the Japanese producers looking to take XANADU to Tokyo in May. They were great! Happy, if not exhausted, to be here and looking forward to seeing the shows tomorrow. It had been awhile since I’d seen someone so genuinely excited to see a theatrical piece—not phoning it in or being nice, but truly grateful to have the opportunity. I got them set up with food and in their lavish hotel (“No play, only business”, said one of the producers) and was tipped a handsome Lincoln.

Domo Arigato indeed!