Next day, I return home to see my housemmates and check in with everyone. Everyone slept comfortably and are in good moods. I take the opportunity to do laundry and shave and wash my hair. We went almost two weeks without doing laundry and I definitely underpacked, so this time, I’m just throwing in as many shirts and unmentionables I can (along with a pair of shorts and some button downs in case we have a desire to eat somewhere fancy or go paint the town red.) All I know is I hope to not sweat through and stink up the joint like I have for the last two weeks. I shave my face which feels so good (again, gender/presentation issues! If I could eradicate all facial hair from my stupid face I would in a second!) as well as taking a beautifully thorough shower.
I hop the BART to Civic Center and walk to Rickshaw Stop. it’s very chilly, and very windy, but I love it. I turn the corner to the venue just as the band is walking up. I guess they’re happy to see me? I always get so nervous when we play in cities I live in because I go into a fully autonomous mode (“I’m staying here, I’ll meet you here” etc) that doesn’t really exist “on the road.” On the road, it’s an us against the world mentality; four different personalities all bound together in the name of rock and roll and sweet freedom. So when I break out, I feel self conscious; for now, they’re all happy to see me. Load in, and merch in, and soundcheck. The band dips out to eat, but I still have some merch work to do. I’m slightly nervous about this show because the last time we were at this venue, not one but two fights broke out and the show had to be stopped multiple times to address it. It was truly unpleasant experience, so my senses are tuned high for any sort of goon shit.
I had a late lunch, so I’m not hungry, I mill about until Britt arrives and we go for a walk; we talk about relationship stuff, and dating and the weirdness therein. Back at the venue, Grace and Ben are chilling, as is everyone, but it’s super nice to see these two; good local eggs keeping it real out here in these brutal streets.
Soar come out the gate strong with some expertly crafted rock, sounding like a throwback to early pavement, and “University” era Throwing Muses. Cool shit, and the singers hair is to die for (even though we all know the best hair in punk belongs to Grace Ambrose.) Kitten Forever take the party into the next gear with their heavy rhythm romp. Its so dope seeing people react to them (How’d they switch instruments without stopping?) and the reaction is always the same: cheer and scream at seemingly the oddest times; friends and loved ones are texting me “WHAT IS THIS BAND?? I LOVE THIS BAND” man, what a band. Screaming Females kill it, but I don’t remember much. I don’t know what happened, but one drink just kept getting refilled when I wasn’t looking. A dumb tequila goblin got me, and I’m honestly not sure how we even got to this point, but I remember looking at the band as we reached Adams Point.
“Okay I’m getting out of the car.”
“Are we good? Should I go to Berkeley and stay with ya’ll? I feel like I’m abandoning ya’ll”
“If you went back to John and Megans with us, I’d be concerned for your well being.”