b r e a t h i n g   r o o m

22 Nov 97

Slept till 10 am this morning (didn't get home last night till 4 am). Tried to run a few household errands and ran into a frantic mob of thanksgiving shoppers jockeying in their cars as if at a demolition derby. I came back home later than I expected and more frazzled, still shy of some needed sleep.

Then I threw together what I needed for an overnight and drove across the bridge into San Francisco, coming out from under some of the worst cloud cover. The sky had every shade somewhere amidst the gradations of color at the edges of cloudbanks and sky. Nick was ready when I arrived and we headed for the Great Highway, which we took to Pacifica, and then to 280.

By the time we made it to 17 it was late afternoon so we headed over the mountains out to Santa Cruz in the gathering dusk. We arrived on Ocean Avenue near the designated pub, a meeting place chosen by our friend Rita whom we know mainly from running into each other at a series of shows.

After a beer, during which we rehashed last night's show, we drove through the building rain to a nearby Indian restaurant, Royal Taj, and had an excellent meal of pakora, chicken, lamb, veggies, and nan.

After circling a little overmuch, we found a parking space that seemed quasi-legitimate and got ready to stand in the rain outside the Catalyst waiting for day-of-show tickets to go on sale. Zero singer Judge was huddled outside smoking a cigarette and memorizing the words to some new song (it turned out to be 'Down in the Boondocks').


If anything, tonight's show was more loose-limbed and fun than last night's. Highlights off the top of my head include a full-on cover of Chick Corea's La Fiesta and a psychedelic calypso epic version of Kimock original It's Up to You, with Mr. Broadway sandwiched inside.

Rita put us up for the night in nearby Boulder Creek. We had set off without any firm plans of where to stay, which adds to the adventure, a friend of mine has assured me. The drive up the windy dirt road among the redwoods in a steady rain was engaging, much like a really responsive pinball table, but draining. As awake as I felt after the show, I soon drifted off into a twilight world, listening to and feeling my own breathing in the darkened living room.

yester morrow

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