Friday night I got the traditional city shafting in the sense that I unavoidably had to travel from South Bay to Beverly Hills back to South Bay just because that’s the way things were going to shake out. I can’t remember if I gave an interview to the Daily Trojan on the car ride home (or was it Thursday), but regardless the Friday commute is awesome because music sounds better. I definitely was doing all kinds of cool brainstorming for the season when suddenly I wanted a cigar and some bourbon, so I hit Vendome on Olympic and made it happen. Felt way out of the loop. Apparently there is a small batch version of Bulleit with a green label. I refused to try it though because I had the combination of that, my balcony and an Arturo Fuente Work of Art on my mind.
Ate at Petros with close friends, drank and had difficulty getting straws. Loyally stuck with Macallan and remembered how much I like braised anything. It’s arrogant to cook things in a way that utilizes low heat and impractically long amounts of time. I like when they tell you things like “this lamb was braised for 36 hours in an oven stolen from voodoo shamans”. Voodoo always helps the meat fall off the bones. I’m not a vegetarian if anyone was curious (although the other day I did eat an all vegetable lunch just to tell meat to fuck off for a bit).
Across town at SongFest, I was told a skit was based on me. I love my Trojan family. Arrogant Nation keeps getting more arrogant. It’s great.
The morning was intense because I was going to be the opening speaker at USC’s Relay for Life. I read my speech over a few times before heading down there. It was a great feeling to see so many people rallied around something I had to personally do battle with.
The crowd was terrific and there was a lot of love for the other survivors. Surreal feelings all around that I am not sure I even know how to explain or share. Ate lunch on campus and had the pleasure of my wife pointing out (wife-cred) that the girls behind us were talking about my blog without knowing who I was. I am sure my parents thought that was cool, although I didn’t ask.
My afternoon run was crazy meditative. Everything felt a little off, even the Dodgers were rained out midway through the game and would have to tack on the end of the last game before the first one. Also, people kept talking about the Masters and that bothers me because golf is for playing and drinking, not paying attention to.
Dinner we tried Scarpetta nearby at the Montage. Polenta appetizer was the truth. I want to eat it for the next six meals and then tear the face off a bear (and then braise the bear face for 36 hours in a vintage dutch kiln stolen from early settlers of New Jersey).
We returned home and met up with some more close friends (this couple in fact has asked me to be their officiant and marry them which will be amazing and the first time a bachelor party was planned by the officiant, arrogant). We got into the Bulleit heavy and then had to chase a cabbie down the street who was trying to bitch at us about us not coming downstairs on time. I didn’t know we had deliverables and I ran down the stairs like some drunken ocelot, so I just think this guy had his own shit going on. To top the taco, he refused to accept the address I gave him was in Silverlake, repeatedly telling me it was in Santa Monica. Instead of explain the difference between East and West Sunset, I just told him to drive east. It worked, no way.
We were in Silverlake to see my old bandmates in Fight From Above release their new video and play a set at Fauxchella, their warehouse party. My college roommate from Fluor was one of the bartenders so I got a glass of some whiskey (not a pour, a glass). Weirder still was that I think I just hugged him and said “whiskey” and suddenly there it was. My wife saw a girl wearing a full-on tribal headdress. Silverlake! As we kept drinking and as the music rocked on, we outweirded the weird, at some point doing a dance around a purse that was on the ground. When a few hipsters stared at us, I knew we were being arrogant. When you freak out Silverlake kids, you are in the life endzone.
The music video was amazing, here it is just so you all can check out what my good friends are up to:
I ran into friends from high school, friends from my band days, strangers I don’t really remember and some people that I thought I knew but they might have been television actors I couldn’t place. The more music, the more whiskey, the more city, the more energy. In the morning was cancer and optimism, by night fall it was friends and sounds and acquaintances in the shadow of my old friend downtown. The two polar opposites brands of feeling alive. Incredible displacement, but the good kind you find on roller coasters and carnival rides. People asking if I’d be jumping on stage or writing some new shit. “I don’t know” but I am not sure if I am answering them or my own inner dialogue. I am too distracted by a photo booth and we collect to take a picture where we all flick the camera off. I am looking forward to finding it. I think about writing this very post, but it only lasts a moment. I can only hold thoughts for just a moment tonight. My life is a slideshow.
Things go black for a moment when my friend headbutts my temple. I am not sure if it was for fun or to celebrate an imaginary touchdown, but for two minutes I am reminded at the resiliency of the human body, another odd parallel with this morning. The next thing I remember is haggling the price of burritos next door. No one had asked me to buy them, but I just went there in a concussed autopilot. There are two hipsters inside simulatneously doing a photo shoot AND making Coachella plans. It’s perfect. I just frat boy the shit out of them. “Coachella huh?” I say. “I hear Kings of Leon is playing, tiiiiight”. I hate Kings of Leon, but I love reminding people things they love have gone mainstream. I love the mainstream. I hate people thinking it’s bad for no reason. Like, if the mainstream kidnapped your girlfriend like it was an 8-bit Nintendo game and you have to button-mash your way to vengeance, cool. Fuck the mainstream. Otherwise, what is the problem?
They end up laughing at me in a good way and I give them my chips and possibly one of the five burritos I have bought for no reason. Also, the Dodgers apparently won twice in a night. I just hope I am not concussed.
I wake up remembering the burrito on taste alone. Sunday is spent low key watching the Dodgers screw the pooch and waiting to go to dinner at Mas Malo downtown, which I am excited about because there will be good friends there including but not limited to The Englishman (who still has not found out the rugby score between England and France so he can watch it at my place, so impressive). I am also excited because Mas Malo is below 7 Grand and Malo in Silverlake I have always enjoyed.
That said, the company was great, but I think it’s getting too much hype. I don’t support clever names of meals like “Boyle Heights Picnic”. It’s like people who name their dogs show dog names like “Destiny Pays Taxes” and shit like that. Call it Chicken and then describe it. Also, I felt like the margarita quality was not where it should have been. I may be spoiled by the amount of good drinks to be had in the city. Also, I was told (like the cab driver and Santa Monica) that we already had the corn tortillas when we did not. Jedi Mind Tricks only work when I do them. For most of us, we know when we have the things we have and the things we do not. The habanero creme salsa and flour tortillas were epic though, so good work there.
Vegas in two weeks. Who is in?