Quote of the day:

 I did not read books the first summer; I hoed beans. Nay, I often did better than this. There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or hands . . . I had this advantage, at least, in my mode of life, over those who were obliged to look abroad for amusement, to society and the theater, that my life itself was become my amusement and never ceased to be novel.
-Thoreau
 

4:50 PM

 San Diego, CA

 (Carlitos's house)

 Just rolled into Carlitos's house about an hour ago; stayed at Bob's again last night in Ventura. Saw Tori Amos at the Santa Barbara County Bowl last night; she was way cool!

 Drove into Santa Barbara yesterday and had a major-sized breakfast at the Comeback Cafe and then basted on the beach for a few hours, got a pretty good burn, but it felt great nonetheless; as Tori said at the beginning of the show: "Santa Barbara is a great place to live; my nose is red, everything but my ass is red and I love it!" Checked out the Arts and Crafts exhibit set up on the beach, on Cabrillo, south of the Pier, and listened to a little bit of a drum jam; Jon got in a little hack.

 While eating breakfast at the Comeback and looking through the Sunday paper, I happened upon the information that Tori Amos was appearing that night at the County Bowl. We tried to buy tickets over the phone, but for one reason or another, were unable to; so we went to the show and scalped tickets at the front gate about a half and hour before the show, 25 bucks a piece for 3rd row on the lawn (primo seats!), about 50c more than we would have paid for a seat in the back row if I had been able to buy them over the phone. Like kool karma, dude!

 A guy named Willie Porter opened on acoustic guitar; he did a raucous cover of the Jackson Five hit, "Come on Baby Give me One More Chance" in ball-bustin' falsetto; reminded me a lot of a mix between Michael Hedges and David Wilcox.

Tori came out to the song Son of a Preacher Man, decked-out all in purple (including skin-tight leather pants); armed with just two pianos, and with some occasional assistance from a guitarist, launched into a two-hour show that included only 2 of her songs that I recognized from radio-play, a song that didn't make the cut on Under the Pink (Tori's favorite song, omitted because "I'm an idiot" says Tori) and concluded in the third encore with a cover of the song by the artist formerly known as Prince's, Purple Rain, played on a harpsichord wheeled out just for that one song.

 In the midst of the show I left the lawn area to use one of the oh so convenient porta-potties; in order to regain entrance to the lawn area one had to display a day-glo orange wrist-band passed out with oh so serious flair at the gate; we were warned: "Don't lose this orange one cause we're not issuing replacements! Jon had complained at some length about having to wear such a confining and conspicuous device; as I approached the lawn area, poised for re-entry, I was asked to display my coveted wrist-band; I jutted out my arm with grinning bravado only to discover that my coveted band had somewhere along the line deserted ship. I was subjected to 15 minutes worth of good-humored (but for that good-humor nonetheless strenuous) in your face challenge, the gist of which was: I didn't really belong in the lawn section. They laid some shit on me like the lawn tickets were sex-coordinated and that I had the "wrong-sexed" ticket; I told them that I didn't believe that shit for minute, and that they were cold and callused and had been doing their job for too long; the woman begged off on that one claiming that that this was her first season as a member of the Gestapo; somehow we got on the subject that bogus lawn ticket holders in the near past had tried to get through a ultra-violet light system by spreading mustard on their wrists and that it had worked for a while until one of the ushers had noticed some suspicious looking Grey Poupon. So I laid on them the boiled African tree frog story, the fact that drinking the water that said (unlucky) frog was boiled in produced hallucinations akin to those produced by LSD; they seemed to be pretty impressed with my irreverence in the face of such perceived sly-dealings (a.k.a.: my trying to sneak into the lawn section undeserved!) and eventually, at my continued and unwavering insistence, let me pass. Justice triumphs again, once again the forces of darkness are vanquished, for the moment anyway. Caught the rest of Tori and am damn glad of it!

 It's hard to describe Tori; as I mentioned to Jon: "Woman aren't allowed to be like that." That being: a strong woman who refuses to make excuses for her strength, and who refuses to adjust her behavior/attitude/carriage to what would be considered societal norms for woman. Translation: she refuses to kiss anybody's ass, which is difficult enough to get away with as a man, but damn near sight impossible for a woman and I respect her for it and it was definitely the driving energy behind much of her show. Check her out if you haven't done so already!

 Jon and I retired for another meal at Joe's after the show, round two of an Omaha and a toxic drink; we had a discussion with the bartender about Bob's frugality. "Cheap?, Bob cheap? You've got to actually buy something to be cheap!! Bob can make one dollar last a month!" Or so says Old-and-Haggard Karl, a former roommate of Jon and Bob's.

 Keepin' truckin' on! Mac Pilsner