SO I'm up now and what a night last night was. We performed at the MINT, a small, swanky, dark joint with old 33's plastered on the ceiling. It actually almost feels like a bank safe in a weird, drunk, crazy sorta way.
The place was packed and we were one of three bands that played. Our set rocked the hardest as usual and JT, gave a bucket of sweat to the people, for the people, by the people. I wore the gold tight pants and a black v-neck t-shirt with the black boots that I still haven't been able to retire . . . but soon y'all - real soon. Atlantic was in the house, as was our publicist and her invited guests.
Before the show, I picked up the LA Weekly and got my nose deep into what was happening in LA. I wasn't sure what we were doing afterwards, but I always look for a plan B - and this has nothing to do with having babies. So I'm leafing through the Weekly and discover that BUSDRIVER is performing - I literally freeze in my place. There's a wonderful story that goes to this.
New fact about me: I have an amazing sense of new artistry that always starts with me reading about someone, then seeking out to experience them either live or via purchase of the music. I can't say it any other way. So I was already hip to this cat because I'd read about him the day we arrived in California. Intrigued the out of my sensory, but all I did (at the time) was pull the article, fold it up and put it in my purse with intentions of seeking out the music when I got back to Dallas. Well, low and behold, this cat was perfroming last night at the Knitting Factory with two other acts, namely Nocando.
So after freezing in my place . . . I go do the show (shout out by the way to the 5 Mo's I managed to attract before going on stage that became my personal shouting section), make my rounds with the attendants and then start trying to figure if I can make it over to the Knitting Factory. With Brett Michaels being cancelled, I already knew it was going to get wild later, but a sister's feet were on orange alert and I didn't want to go get sloppy anywhere, I wanted to go see Busdriver. As fate would have it, Jacob spots me ticket money and Jason Castro (yes, from American Idol) and his posse give me a ride to Hollywood Blvd, right in front of the Knitting Factory. I left JT and the band back at The MINT unsure of where they would be later.
So I get in the show and just as I suspected, these LA cats is on it like fat on fresh cooked food. When I arrive, I'm able to get right up to the stage. There weren't a lot of people there, maybe 120 or so, but the room could have held more . . . it's okay, though because I'm front and side with room to move. This dude comes and stands by me and we get to talking. His name was Willie and he was from the Corpus Christi area and was wearing a solid gold, big ass belt buckle that said THE STATE OF TEXAS....how wild is that. Willie is a skier-gone-surfer who is moving to Hawaii in August. Not to mention, Willie was 1974 and he was ready to dance . . . so we did. I'm talking breaking a sweat, legs shaking at the end, breathing hard dancing. Danced so much, we actually attracted a female who's spirit was aflame. I would later (while getting my BUSDRIVER autograph) that her name is Jhoanna. I did get to meet BUSDRIVER, tell him my whole story of getting to the Knitting Factory and blessing him with the only Obama poem I've written at this point in my life. I don't have a copy - I gave him what I had. Funny thing about the poem was that I wrote it right before I left Dallas. Yeah, I hadn't been moved to really write an Obama poem until just last week. ANYHOOO -
Jhoanna and I click and I make a new friend in California. A true hearted chick with a love of all things natural.
After the show, I call the guys and try to figure where they are. I don't have cab fare, but I'm not worried. Once again, as fate would have it, the guys are less than a block from me at a club, I still don't know the name of, but from the street you could see women dancing in huge rectangular windows. I get to the door and realize I've changed lanes and planes because I'm at a spot where the pretty people are (until the lights come on).... dark, large, and blasting eighties music . . . aaaargh! Inside, I'm informed by Jord-O that I'd just missed Lindsey Lohan and Ryan Seacrest . . .
The JTNL crew is all over the place, meeting great folks, drinking muscular drinks, and Kansas is putting it down on the dancefloor without any assistance from a dance partner. He's making his own room in his own way. All this forced me to bum two cigs for me and Nick where were chillin on the wall. Then a woman comes and before I know it Nick is headed into the sea of bad dancing bodies. I digress and start sipping on a drink that randomly appeared where I was....a full out drink. I stay there about 43 minutes when I see my savior, Jacob headed towards the exit.
The only thing I can tell you from there is the cabdriver was speedracer and Nick strolled into the hotel room around sunrise, said something about "still at the club . . . i'm not kidding" and went to bed. He's snoring now as I'm typing this. So today is round up . . . which could take a few hours because we left the van and trailor at the venue. See, we know when we're going to be "NOT THE DESIGNATED".
Yeah, and with Brett Micheals having a stage kiss his face and all, the cancellation results in a welcomed day to recoup. I'm on my way to have lunch with family. My great-grandfather is a South Central LA resident. Yes, my great-grandfather is still banging at 100 years old and I'm making the pilgrimage. Hope this suffices, there's other things to tell, but I have to get back into the mode of reporting because you know at the end of the day . . . I can't tell it all. Stay strong and stay familiar.