So, we had to drive from Portland to San Diego. well, not “we” , as I don’t drive anything. I actually got to sit in the back and play some awesome IPhone game called “angry birds” for like 5 hours while everyone else dealt with traveling. regardless, we left Portland on sunday morning and arrived in S.D. monday night. Not too shabby.
Speaking of San Diego, I strolled around the Ocean Beach section and I kinda felt like I just walked into a hypodermic needle filled with piss and hackey sacks. That said, the burrito I had was fucking amazing and only cost 4 bucks. From the limited parts of S.D. I have seen, it reminds of the beach in the movie Fletch. I don’t feel at all unsafe but the majority of the people I saw were definitely not familiar with bathing and hygiene and there is a palpable low life aura to the place. The thing is, I can see how that could happen out here. Everything is cheap. The beach is right in front of you. All you gotta do all day is sell a few glass pipes a day by the sand and just kick it. One of the dudes I’m traveling with, who has lived in S.D. in the past, said how the young girls here are the hottest but once they get into their early 30’s, they start to age double time. The beach will do that to a person, I suppose.
You know you’re old when you tell someone you’re age and they say “no way! you look way more like you’re 29” and they are being completely sincere and complimentary.
Speaking of things you know, you know you’ve been eating like shit when you get a hold of some grapes and feel, by eating them, you’re doing your body some great health filled service. Grapes. They go really well with M&M, Nerd ropes and potato skin chips.
And finally, the worst fan guy ever.
At the show in San Diego, there was this one extremely drunk dude. That may explain his behavior to an extent. I’m willing to give him that much.
This dude rolled up to the merch booth with a weird sense of entitlement that you rarely see coming from a dude who looks like the nerdy best friend on every 80’s sitcom. He did this thing where he was hot and cold. At first, he’s throwing extreme praise and the next second he’s yelling at you for some shit that isn’t even real. Our conversation started with him telling me how much he likes my music (That’s cool) and slowly drifted into him being mad at me for never playing Seattle (which I had played three days earlier and during the summer). Turns out he “knows” promoters and they’ve been “calling” “me” forever and I’m an asshole for not returning calls. First of all, I have a booking agent and a manager that handles all that shit. I explain this to him and he can’t let go of the “How come you never called me back?!?!?!” sentiment. This goes on for a while and he explains to me that he knows DJ Shadow , but he’s just “Josh” to him (Cool story , bro) and that he also works for Pitchfork.com so I should give him free cd’s. I explain that it doesn’t work like that and Pitchfork has never really given a shit about me anyway so that point doesn’t quite cut it. He then threatens to give me bad reviews on pitchfork (Super cool story, lying bro) and, without missing a beat, asks for a free cd. He was eyeing this $5 tour cd I have. I reject the awesome offer once again until I eventually get $4 out of him just so he’ll go away. He does (after about 15 awkward pounds and minor insults) and was later seen pouring beer directly on the cd I sold him. So, yeah, Fuck that guy.
Dude, If you’re reading this, I hope you’re not that much of a complete dipshit in everyday life and that you were blackout drunk. Honestly, I would believe that was possible, so if we cross path’s again, no hard feelings (but if you’re really anything like the person I met last night, please never come anywhere near me again).
