Having arrived home at 3:30 and at work 5 hours later, you can rest assured that I'm running solely on coffee, a microwaved croissant, and the life-giving majesty of last night's In 'N Out. I feel like an extra in a George Romero movie; feed me brains.
But, it was quite a weekend. Music was had, tetherball was played, sunburns are itching. We played at my old high school's Performing Arts Center, the same place where I saw Fiddler on the Roof in Eleventh Grade (with a Phillipino dude as Tevya, no less---and he RULED) and got some sausagey pasta for dinner, courtesy my Dad. We spent the day at the pool, where I did a lot of flailing off the diving board and loudly mocking the diving form of several different six year olds. The show itself went over well, despite some...unpleasantness with my temporary bass set-up and a complete lack of monitors and alcohol, and, as always, we ended up sweaty and smiling. Plus, I got to see tons of high school bands. And not the ones with flutes & tubas. Ah, memories. When I was that age, I was still trying to learn "The Trooper" by Iron Maiden, so I give these kids credit for the hectic ska, the SoCal punk, and the various incarnations of rock goodness they played. Oh, and I stuck a few stickers on campus and didn't even get sent to the Principal's Office. I'm a rebel, you know.
The next morning, after some biscuits and gravy, we drove up to LA to play a barbeque at Little Radio. Let me tell you what I was expecting: I flimsy wooden stage under a ripping tent in the 100 degree weather with a negligable sound sytem. I couldn't have been more wrong. Little Radio's set up down there is epic, in a Gilgamesh sort of way. Not only do they have a proper venue, but the invaded the neighboring furniture store parking lot with ping pong tables, kiddie pools, plastic pool recliners, squirt guns, hamburgers, and a bouncy castle with foam basketball hoops inside. A memo: when you can spend half your day recklessly flying around a bouncy castle pretending to be athletic, you're having a good day. This is undeniable.
To boot, the venue was inside, so no one got heatstroke. Run Run Run were kind enough to let me plug into their bass amp (thanks again) and everyone was so laid back & barbeque-y that it was tough to leave. When in fact we did, it was half past seven and on an empty stomach, hence the egregiously late arrival this morning. Oh well. Definately my favorite LA show experience thus far. So, thanks again Little Radio folks. I hope you keep that up. And, you know, if you live in LA, I can't think of a better thing to do on a sweltering Sunday, so you should do yourself a favor & go check them out. If it wasn't an eight hour drive, I'd go every weekend. It just doesn't seem cost efficient.
Before my brain continues to atrophe at an exponential rate, I'm going to start trying to do some work, listen to something soothing (Ryan Adams sounds nice, doesn't he?), and drink about eight more cups of terrible office coffee. Just a note: coffee should not be crunchy. But it's crunchy and free and, well, I have my priorities.