Upon A BBQ Heading Into The Night, part 1

Drove up from Pacific Grove Friday morning. The fog was super heavy. Dad would always warn us, that if we were bad he would send us to Castroville. It is a pretty good-bad city, in that regard. It’s the closest town for most of the farms nearby, and therefore great for transient workers- and almost no families live there, just the guys working to send money home – there are more bars than churches on any given block. I’m struck by how quintissentially Western it is, and how it never changes. Why hasn’t anyone tried to gentrify Castroville?

Friday afternoon my sis and I did a long walk around Berkeley. Then, sat with her and brother-in-law talking and idly making paper cranes. “You’ve done 7, you have 9993 to go!” he says as he goes to bed. Heading into the city I called some friends who were out for birthday drinks, in hopes of catching up with them, but cell phone reception Friday nights are impossible. I was also fighting fatigue.

Saturday: Biked to the gym, as it is the fastest way to get there, then an attempt to cross town via the B-U-S, which made me motion sick. I warned Kathy upon arrival that I’d be cranky for 20 minutes until my stomach settled, and she said, “Do you want a martini?” Because, doesn’t everyone know that clears the head and settles the stomach!

Finally Kathy and I continue the B-U-S adventure to a friend’s barbecue. I’m going to write an ode: “Upon A BBQ Heading Into The Night”. Nobody is as excited about this attempt but me. I’ve got the title down… From BBQ to Madrone, the bar that I’ve seen from afar but never entered. People were friendly there, and the bartender erased an awful bambootini and replaced it with the yummy Lola.

Kathy’s party showed, and mine did as well, so I ran off to wait in the will call line for the Rogue Wave benefit show hyped about here. There were Marina Girls behind us, and Marina Girls in front of us. Everywhere, surrounded by Marina Girls. Then, after waiting in line and getting thoroughly chilled, I got to go inside and wait in line for the women’s bathroom. I tried to appreciate the music as my friend used the male facilities. We were squashed in the back of the Independent, with no breathing room, and people kept standing in front of us. I’m sure this is karmic reversal for the time I came to the Four Tet show and got blistering drunk, and had a shouting conversation with my friend, and people yelled at us, and I was generally Not a Good Concert Goer.

We bought tons of raffle tickets, as this was a benefit, gave them back to the raffle guy to pass out “at his discretion” and then left, with lots of “this is a benefit/fundraiser, we’ve done our bit” and perhaps a wee bit guilt for not listening to the rest of the artists. We hopped in a cab and went to the AMC Van Ness to watch the Black Dahlia. I’ve read the book, and love the Blue Dahlia, and wasn’t as disappointed in this effort as my friend, but still, it wasn’t completely what I wanted it to be.

Finally got home and turned on the heat.