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2003-05-11 || 12:08 p.m. || kind of like a mentos commercial. || don't know quite where to start but there was mad owen-hanging out and detecting cold spots in the winchester mystery house, scanning empty rooms for any ghosts or detail of the supernatural variety. driving along the freeway and singing along with the anchors and making our winding way to santa cruz. mega-house show in the hills with a billion bands playing. the anchors and cass roll up in a rented truck filled to the brim and immediately proceed to the hiding spot behind the guest house armed with boom box and sammy's grateful dead and pot and beer. getting to see all the san diego boys and newyorkcass: tito all handsome and lifting me up off the ground, anthony all wild-haired and tan, cameron all fancy in his newsie cap and rock star hair, sammy all tall and broad with his sampurse full of books and a copy of rock and roll circus and weed and a comb. cass dapper in that cass way with an old man jacket and werewolf eyes. we sat around until it was too dark to see each other's faces and moved into the big house, inhabiting various rooms and fucking various shit up. we invoked the faraway spirit of my sister (dear kelly, those boys do love you so) and cass played a piano in a living room and we drank lots of beers and hugged a lot and waited for the part where the truck gets unloaded into the wee basement. we sat on front steps and a and t and o sang r kelly over and over and cass punched me in the arm until i yelled uncle and sam was on the lookout for a hippie girl. the anchors set up and o and dana and i played maracas two inches from the PA so that our eardrums were properly blown out. those boys. so good. so rockin. sammy screaming at them at the especially rockin parts, and everyone shimmying in spite of themselves. then cass played and his first song was an old song that made me all weepy remembering the brick house and making dinner with my boys in the living room picking at their guitars. cass in his cass sweater. now it was newyorkcass with his electrified singing and sammy on drums and anthony on keys and they too were marvelous. ungh. i think at every show the entire audience should be given maracas. you have to feel it, man, when playing maracas. and you look right sexxy shaking those things i think. they finished and we stood outside with our ears ringing and eyes red and oh. those boys don't come around often enough. shows you should know about: monday tomorrow, may 12: the anchors and cass mccombs and the ceramic isles at cafe du nord in san francisco, 10:00. do it. tuesday, may 13: casiotone for the painfully alone and the paradise boys and the rapture at great american music hall, 8:00 i think if you can believe it. i'll be the decidedly unelectro-fied merch girl. please talk to me.) there are more casiotone/rapture dates down along californee, you can check here to find out where in los angeles and pomona and san diego. again, lonely merch girl wearing the same lucky touring socks every day would love to see you. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |