Greetings, one and all. We're home in San Francisco and I'm not-so-patiently waiting for a serendipitous phone call from an employer I probably forgot to contact. We're in that always excremental time between tours where you aren't around long enough to lie your way into a proper job yet around just long enough so you have to. Of course, that's why God invented temping, which, coincidentally, is the closest most people get to having a pimp.
But we're not talking about my descent into joyless whoredom. No, no. It's a good week, with not one but two shows in the Bay Area and tickets to the Warriors-Nuggets game with all the other monsters. In actuality, all those things happen within about thirty hours of each other, a fact which promises to make my Saturday an epic, Demolition Man-filled celebration of sloth. Details, details:
Friday the 11th finds us at the hotbed of conservative, fundamentalist flimflammery known as UC Berkeley at noon, followed by an evening time date at the always splendiferous Bottom of the Hill. The Berkeley show is, yes, at twelve noon in a place called "Lower Sproul Plaza," a location that surely exists but sounds like it should be in Hogsmeade. Bottom of the Hill is, well, at the bottom of Potrero Hill (see how they did that?). Here's a poster for the later:
That's a purty poster. Anyway, if you're a Bay Area-ite, please stop by at either. Or both. The UC Berkeley thing is zero dollars while Bottom of the Hill is all ages, ten bucks, and will be filled with copious revelry. You can get tickets for the Bottom show over here. See you soon, but I'll see Steven Jackson sooner.