Dreamed I was your landlord, I showed your place when you had lovers.

I'd like to share an excerpt from Kerouac's On The Road with anyone that may be reading:

Crossing the Oakland Bay Bridge I slept for the first time since Denver soundly; so that I was rudely jolted in the bus station at Market and Third into the memory of the fact that I was in San Francisco three thousand two hundred miles from my mother's house in Ozone Park, Long Island. I wandered out like a haggard ghost, and there she was, Frisco, long bleak streets with trolley wires all shrouded in fog and whiteness. I stumbled about a few blocks. Weird bums (it was Mission st.) asked me for dimes in the dawn. I heard music somewhere.

This sums it up for me, I think. I never felt more connected to a piece of writing than I do to this one. I still am jolted by that thought of being so far away from my mother's house on Long Island two years later. The description of wandering and the description of the fog. The weird bums of Mission Street! Yes! Yes! They're still here, Jack!

Saturday, Andy's other other band, Tatanka Iyotake played a house show. As usual, I attended via public transportation armed with a six pack (+ one) of Budweiser. I ran into people I wasn't expecting to run into, it wasn't as awkward as it could have been but there was definitely some sexual tension. I hitched a ride to 29th Street where a few people and the occupants stayed up for a while. I was just about finished with my beers and was having more handed to me.

I enjoyed some nachos and we ended up listening to Irish folk music, legit Irish folk. It was fantastic and I hope to get some of my own to listen to on my own time. As the hours passed and more beer was consumed, more cigarettes were smoked, my eyes also became heavier.

The next day was a punk generator show in Golden Gate Park. I left the Mission house and returned to mine to get my car and a breakfast bar. At the park, I met up with some dudes who were also lost and looking for the horseshoe pits where the show was being held. There was a barbecue (I'd bought some sweet italian sausage) and punk bands and skateboards and beer and soda. I interacted with few people all day and yet I still felt accepted, embraced and not-judged by those people. It was a perfect way to spend a perfect Sunday. On my drive back toward home, I gave some buddies a lift to their car. I my friends, this circle of friends. I hope to hold onto them and this feeling no matter where I live, who I live with etc. They are wonderful people and I feel that way whether I'm drunk, sober, high, low whatever. I need to spend more time with them than I do, either that or I need to turn 21.

My life is turning around. I feel an incredible sense of independence and self-sufficience. How much of this is related to re-reading On The Road I'm not sure. But I feel fantastic.