Los Angeles, Spaceland
Driving in Southern California.... Drivers down here do something that drivers in other places don't. Regardless of how fast traffic is moving, they whip right up to the person ahead of them and glide along about five yards from their rear bumper. There are these long snakes of cars, "Cluster Fucks" as Tim calls them, whipping along in the fast lane, all practically holding hands. It's a wonder... it's a wonder all sorts of awful things don't happen more often. It's creepy. It's stressful to watch, and I'm sure being in that sort of "Cluster Fuck" is stressful indeed. I watched people putting their lives on the line, endangering years of their lives and the lives of others in order to shave seconds off their commute. Maybe if they get home early from their job it'll save their marriage, who knows. Maybe it's worth it.

This show wasn't quite as glamorous as the previous two. This was more just an ordinary L.A. show. No movie stars. The rock bands we played with were loaded with semi-famous people, but I'll be damned if I can tell you who they were. The people, I mean. The bands were called Straight To Video and The Urinals. The guitarist/singer in Straight To Video is our old friend/acquaintance/videographer David, who has lived happily in L.A. for some time now. He's a hoot, it was nice to see him.

Most of the pleasure of this show was the socializing. My friend Dean was in town with his friend Barbara, Dean's from Seattle, I know him from elementary school for pete's sake, what was he doing in L.A.? Apparently he was staying down in South Shitsville with some friends or relatives of Barbara's. He'd been looking forward to a week in L.A. but here he was staying at the end of a dirt road three hours outside of town. Poor guy. I shot pool and failed again to down more than a single drink. Something may be wrong with me.

We stayed the night at Sam Velde's. You'll remember him from last year's trip. We stayed up late last year singing Cult songs while I thought about his girlfriend, or something like that, I don't remember. Well, tonight was a quiet one. Sam stayed at his girlfriend's house and we all slept like logs, oh! Except Andy! Again! Three times! He attacked me! Three times! He'd start pawing me, I'd wake up and say "Andy!" and he'd sort of grunt with surprise and then giggle himself back to sleep. Shit! What a whore! I felt like such trash. The first time I woke him out of his reverie he said in wonderment, "who are you?" It was totally corny. Three times! Unreal. Someone give that boy some real lovin' & get him off my back.

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